


Shattered Ambitions

by bs13



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Tasertricks - Fandom, Thor (Movies)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Business AU, Darcy doesn't take Loki's shit, Frigga Feels, Maybe Thor/Jane, Meddling Sif, Odin is an asshole
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2014-11-09
Packaged: 2018-02-16 13:52:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 36,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2272197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bs13/pseuds/bs13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Loki is a business man denied the inheritance of his family's company, Asgard Industries, and as a result will stop at nothing to get it. Darcy is a broke undergrad he (unfortunately) meets by chance who just might be a way for Loki to get said company. This could either be the best thing Loki's ever done...or the most foolish. Tasertricks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I'm Tearing You Asunder

**Author's Note:**

> **I've had this story up on Fanfiction.net for a while, and I figured I might as well try to post it here. No one is going to read this....**
> 
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> **(So as a side note, this story will have its own soundtrack by the time it's finished, with each chapter as a song to be added).**
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> "So much hate for the ones we love; tell me, we both matter, don't we?" _Running Up That Hill_ , Placebo version (original by Kate Bush).
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> **Disclaimer: I don't own Thor.**

Loki Odison is no stranger to getting what he wants.

Whether it be because he is powerful, or because he forces his way into getting whatever it is, he always gets it in the end. This time, however, he finds himself empty-handed when his parents inform him that _Thor_ , his oaf of a brother, is the son who will be inheriting Asgard Industries. _Thor_. Not Loki.

The answer to this conflict is, of course, to get what he wants one way or another. Loki knows he will get the company sooner or later, seeing how uneducated Thor is when it comes to business. The man majored in _kinesiology_ for God's sake. _Loki_ was the one to major in business; if anyone should be running the family company, it's him.

But of course he doesn't mention so to his parents. Loki respects them, but he finds their judgment must have been lacking if they had chosen _Thor_ as the son to take over the family buisness. No, the way Loki sees it, he's better off manipulating his _Thor_ to hand over the company instead.

So, for now, Loki decides to stay quiet about his plans and merely congratulates his brother at the party his mother organized, milling full of family and friends alike of the Odison family. He feels slightly out of place here, to be honest, but he endures it, thinking about how he's going to get what he wants as long as he is patient.

"Ah, Loki!"

Thor comes to Loki now, beaming at his brother and wearing a suit that appears too small for his built body. He is trailed by his four friends Fandral, Volstagg, Hogun, and Sif, all of whom Loki is familiar with and knows well himself.

"Thor," answers Loki coolly. "Congratulations on inheriting the company; I always knew you were the more suitable one to do so." All lies, of course, but Loki has never been partial to using the truth when it comes to getting what he wants.

"Thank you, brother," Thor replies, beaming. "I am most excited."

Loki nods. "Yes, I would believe so," he says, and he turns to Thor's friends, nodding at them each accordingly but not referring to them in particular.

"And now, it is time for celebration," Thor goes on fondly. "I shall call for champagne, my friends! Loki, do say you'll come and have a drink with us."

"As you wish, brother," Loki agrees, knowing the idiot will not give him peace until he does. "You know that I am always here to congratulate you." Still lies. How can such words have ever been truthful?

Thor, beaming in his way that shows he was not able to catch the lie, herds off his friends to get champagne, but as Loki moves slowly to follow, he finds that Sif lags slightly behind the others as to talk to him.

"You are taking this remarkably well," she remarks as she falls in step with him.

Loki looks at her, smirking slightly. "Well, he is my brother," he says in a surprisingly easy honest tone. "I could not be angry that he is the one inheriting the company, no matter how much of a bad decision."

"Surely you aren't just a little bit upset?" Sif presses slowly, and her tone is the slightest bit hesitant when she speaks, though Loki notes she is clearly trying to make him say something he ought not to.

Loki keeps smirking. "Why, Sif, you are baiting me," he chides playfully.

Sif rolls her eyes at his flirtatious tone. "Perhaps," she admits. "I merely need to know you aren't planning anything stupid, because I know you, Loki. And I know if you want something, you get it. So tell me, just how upset are you?" While her words are supposed to be intended well, her voice and demeanor are too stiff to be friendly.

"Sif, my dear, I know you equally as well as you know me," says Loki smugly. "And I know you are not worried I will do something stupid. You are worried I will do something to Thor, your unrequited love for, what, two years now?"

Sif falters in her step, but her face remains stiff. "I do not know what you mean."

"It's quite obvious," replies Loki teasingly, knowing he's caught her. In fact, he smirks harder when he realizes this. "You have been pining for my brother for quite some time now, and I believe everyone has noticed such, except for Thor himself. Then again, he wouldn't notice them even if your feelings hit him over the head with a hammer..."

Sif scowls. "I will not listen to you degrade your brother," she insists, her pretty features growing harsh. "And while he is my friend, you forget that I am your friend as well. Just don't do anything stupid, okay?" At this, her gaze softens.

"If it will ease your pain, then of course I will not," Loki says smoothly, not entirely sure to believe that Sif counts him as a friend. "In fact, you have my word."

Sif stops walking and stares at him honestly. "What good is your word, Loki?" she asks quietly, her eyes scanning his. "I have known you to be a liar and a cheat when it comes to business affairs. You are much too rash with your words and elaborate too much on action. You must let your brother have his chance."

Loki could sneer at her. He could insist that his idiot of a brother does not deserve to have a chance with such a great task. He could so easily spill his opinions and thoughts and would not regret a thing.

However, for now, all he does is grin and say, "You are too hasty to judge me, Sif. I assure you that I do not have any plans for Asgard Industries than to watch my brother take over it successfully."

Sif doesn't believe him. It's clear in her eyes.

"Very well," she says, finally. "So, champagne?"

"As you wish."

Champagne glasses are distributed, and Thor raises his own and begins a long speech to the people at the party of his general pride to be taking over Asgard Industries in his loud, powerful voice. As the workers and friends cheer and clap, Loki sips at his glass and watches the scene unfold quietly. He still feels out of place, and he still knows Thor is not the right man for the job.

A final rousing cheer jolts Loki from his thoughts, and he joins the masses of people raising their glasses to Thor in an absentminded gesture. The sound is deafening and most certainly not one Loki intended to hear on his Friday night.

But if it means getting what he wants...

"Loki." His father, Odin, comes up to him now, amid the swirling masses of people going about to congratulate Thor. "Care to step out onto the balcony with me?"

Loki takes a sip of his champagne before saying, "Of course, father." He says it respectively, but he is doubtful of what spending time alone with his father at a time like this could entail.

Loki follows his father out onto the balcony, watching carefully as the older man appears to have something troubling on his mind. As they reach their destination, Loki is greeted by a breath of fresh air, which he gratefully enjoys; the mess of bodies inside had made the room too warm for one's taste.

Odin leans over the side of the balcony, prompting Loki to do the same, and he follows his father's tired eyes to gaze down at the cars below, all of them small and honking and glowing in the darkening night air. Loki takes a sip of his champagne and awaits his father's words, knowing they must be serious.

"Loki, my son, I have something I need to tell you," says Odin finally.

Loki does not take this into mind; he is used to his father's talks. He actually is quite tired of his father's useless spouts of wisedom and random spurs of you-are-my-son moments, but he doesn't say so. What he does say is, "Go ahead, but will it be long? I believe I haven't congratulated Thor just enough yet."

Odin sighs, and he keeps his eyes trained on the cars below as he notes, "You are bitter about my decision, and you treat the manner with sarcasm." He looks at Loki after a few seconds and asks, "Is that not true?"

Loki looks away slightly. "Perhaps, but would you be surprised?"

"No, I am not surprised," Odin replies, though his voice is much more tired than Loki has known it to ever be. "You are my son, and I know how you are." He looks harder at Loki, practically begging for eye contact as he lays on thick the father/son bondage. When Loki doesn't give him the satisfaction, Odin finally asks, "Son, why do you think you did not inherit the company?"

There are many words on the tip of Loki's tongue. Because you are an idiot, perhaps, or because you've always favored Thor over me. What he settles on, however, is simply, "I do not know, father."

"It is not because of any matter relating to favor," says Odin quietly, as if to read Loki's mind. "Your brother is merely the right one for this job. He is the best suited for it."

Loki resists the urge to frown, having to mask the frown with a slight grimace as he curtly says, "I believe you displayed the belief when you appointed him the successor for the company, did you not? You don't have to rub in the fact to me."

Odin sighs once more, and he again looks down to the cars below before he says, "Loki, I am only saying this so you will not take what I will say next out of context."

"And what would that be?" Loki is not sympathetic to his father at this moment, and it is obvious by the way his lip curls in distaste. What he really needs right now is another glass of champagne, not another boring talk.

"You're adopted." The words fall from Odin's lips haphazardly. Once they are out of his mouth, Odin stiffly straightens out his body and looks towards Loki, expecting a response.

The words, however, do not register with Loki at first. How can they be true? He is Odin's son. His father would not hide such a big thing for twenty-seven years. There is no way those words are true. Still, that does not stop the champagne glass from slipping from Loki's fingers as he is caught off guard.

"Your mother did not want to tell you," Odin continues unabashedly. "I, however, knew we could not hide a secret like this forever. It would've been obvious, considering you are different in appearance-"

Loki cuts him off. "Mother told me dark hair was a common trait in this family," he fumes, his voice thick with anger. "You _both_ led me to believe I was part of this family?"

"You _are_ part of this family."

Loki, had he not dropped his glass, would have thrown it in anger right now. Instead, he angrily pushes over to the balcony edge, staring down at the masses of cars driving beneath the building with eyes that have gone unexplicably blurry.

"How old was I?" he demands, voice cracking slightly. "When I was adopted?"

Odin is not put off by Loki's tone. "But a few months," he replies.

"Why?" Loki snaps, turning away from the edge of the balcony, eyes now full off anger and all question of tears gone. "You had Thor. Why would you need me?"

Odin exhales. "It's not important, son," he says rather gruffly.

"Don't call me that." Loki's tone comes out harsh as the words fall from his lips. "How can I be your son when you have lied to me for twenty-seven _years_? How can you even be my _father_?"

"I _am_ your father. Do not speak to me in such a way."

"Then answer the damn question," spits Loki through gritted teeth as he meets Odin's eye with unmistakable fury on his face. "Why. Did. You. Need. Me?"

Odin's face, once stiff and maybe somewhat rueful, grows hard at his son's anger. "If you must know, your parents were drug addicts who set their house on fire and left you to die," he says, his tone of voice just as harsh as Loki's. "I was walking past that very house, and I saved you. You were _alone_. I took you in."

"And for what?" interrupts Loki angrily. "You know there was a reason."

Odin looks away from Loki now and out at the night sky. "You're right," he admits. "Because I was starting off my career as a young business man at the time, taking in the orphaned child I had rescued would, undoubtedly, win over the public."

Loki has to run that through his head. His father never wanted him. No, what Odin wanted was success and the ability to have the public in the palm of his hand. Had Loki been a random orphan, Odin wouldn't have looked twice his way.

"So I was a ploy," fumes Loki, and he slams his fist down on the edge of the balcony in anger. "I was a fucking _ploy_. I was never going to inherit the company from you, yet when I was young you promised Thor and I had an equal chance."

"I told you not to take this out of context. Thor is the better suited for this company, and that is the reason he is the one to inherit it," Odin repeats stubbornly.

Loki laughs dryly. "Oh, and when did you decide that? When he was born, perhaps? No, don't tell me, I'll bet it was when I was adopted and you knew you couldn't pass on the _family_ business to someone who didn't belong!"

"Lower your tone," reprimands Odin harshly as he turns to face Loki once more. "I am not going to quarrel with you about the past, nor the present. I, your mother, and Thor are your family. You are part of ours."

Loki balls both of his fists. "Is that so, _Odin_?" he sneers, pointedly avoiding to call Odin his father. "And are you sure you never regretted what you did? You obviously can't return an adopted child. Did you ever stop to think of what that would mean for you?"

"I do not regret it," Odin replies stiffly. "I am secure in who I am as a person."

"That is well for you and your company, isn't it? But you did not stop to think of _me_ , who would not have anyone to truly be when this mess would be cleared. You have left me to be unsure as to who I am in a person. Who can _I_ be? Who _am_ I?"

Odin keeps a stoic manner as he replies, "You are my son."

Loki stares hard at his father. "Am I really?"

"Do not demean yourself and question me. You know that your mother and I love you as if you were our own," Odin says. "Now come, let us go back in to the party. Our family will be awaiting our presence."

That is how Odin finishes the conversation. He has just dropped the bomb that Loki is adopted and then treated it like it is a business matter. Like it has no importance. Like he doesn't even care what Loki has to make of this. Well, Loki won't let Odin have that satisfaction.

"You may go," Loki says coldly, "but I will not. I do not wish to be part of this family any longer. If it is any consolation, _Odin_ , you no longer have to deal with a failure of a son." Now fully angry, Loki turns on his heel and leaves his father behind, entering the party once more only to find the exit.

The people milling about only make Loki angrier. They are the people he once saw as his family, or even his friends, but now he feels he is unworthy to ever welcome them as such again. Now he wants nothing to do with them ever again.

"Brother! Come celebrate with us!" comes the distinctive yell of Thor, who has noticed that his brother has come back into the room. Loki spares him one glance and sees that Thor's friends and Thor alike are all watching him a bit strangely.

Loki notes he must appear angry. Well, he is. There's no need to be surprised.

"Loki!" This is his mother's voice, and Loki spots her in the crowd. Her voice is as desperate as her face is; it appears as though she knows exactly what Odin had talked to Loki about. "Loki, wait!"

Loki turns and briskly walks to a nearby elevator, pointedly ignoring her. He owes her nothing. Not when she's been lying to him for twenty-seven years. Not when she's led Loki to believe he belonged. Not when she's gone out and let Odin say he didn't.

"Loki!"

Loki presses the elevator button for the lobby with finality. This is the last time, he swears, he'll ever be among those people. It won't, however, be the last time he comes to Asgard Industries. Loki, knowing he is no longer part of the Odison family, still knows exactly what he wants: their company.

And he's going to get it.

When he reaches the lobby, Loki stalks out of the elevator doors, pointedly ignoring any eye contact. When he's finally out of the building and out into the cold winter snow, he dully notes that he left his coat at the party, but he doesn't dwell on it; there are much more valuable things he has lost today.

The cold is certainly dangerous for thinking, for Loki finds his thoughts are racing and he can barely even feel the cold. Millions of thoughts, all of them racing through his head, make him numb to the outside world. Though, it isn't so much as his thoughts, but questions. The question is most often of _why_. Why his parents did not tell him he was adopted. Why they tried to mask the truth with lies.

Loki reaches his car and finds that he's ankle-deep in snow. The white, powdery substance is beginning to fall at an alarming rate. Normally Loki would not drive in such conditions, but he has to get away. There is nothing for him anymore.

Not his father.

Not his mother.

Not-

"Loki!" Thor, of course, comes trudging through the snow himself, looking winded from a run he must have made. "Why are you so hasty to leave? Do you not desire to stay?" While his words are meant to come off as nonchalant, Thor's acting has never been good.

Loki resists the urge to roll his eyes here. Thor knows. Of course he does.

"You know very well that I do not desire to stay," hisses Loki, knowing he will have to say all on his mind to get Thor to leave. "Do not act thick, either; I can read your emotions clearly. You know, don't you? That I am adopted?"

Thor doesn't even blink at the accusation, because as Loki suspected, it is true. "Father told me when you stormed out," he admits. "Loki, I did not know until today."

"Yes, neither did I," snips Loki. "Now if you excuse me-"

"No, brother." Thor steps closer to Loki, but does keep a sizable distance; while Loki is at the curb by his car, Thor is near the middle of the road. "You musn't go," adds Thor. "We must talk about this."

"And what is there to talk about, _brother_?" spits Loki in anger. "That is, if I can even call you that." Yanking out the keys to his car, Loki unlocks the door and turns to Thor and says, "Now goodbye."

"Brother, please. Think of what you are doing," Thor insists, still not moving forward, but looking as though he would not hesitate to get into Loki's way and psychically stop him. "You cannot leave now. Mother has gotten upset."

"She is no mother of mine." The words come out too easily out of Loki's mouth. Though he tells himself it is because they are true, he suspects he has gotten too good at lying.

"But she loves you," pleads Thor quietly.

Loki grips the keys tightly in his hand, leaving the imprint of the patterns on his fingers. "I don't love her," he says coldly. "Now leave me; I need to be alone."

Thor backs up slightly, but his eyes never break away from Loki.

"As you wish," he finally says. "But listen well, brother-"

Suddenly, there comes the sudden sound of screeching tires and a blaring horn. In a flash, a large van has jerked to a stop rather haphazardly, but not before bumping into Thor and knocking him down in the process.

"I'm listening," says Loki almost smugly as he watches his brother on the street, dusted over by icy white snow and most likely damaging his suit in the process.

The van's doors click open, and a woman hurries out, rushing to Thor's side. As Loki strays slightly closer to the two of them, he hears the woman's distinctive beg of "Do me a favor; please don't be dead."

Loki is about to laugh at his brother's most stupid actions when suddenly the other door of the van swings open, and out comes tumbling another woman. This time, however, this woman falls forward, and her body collides with Loki's, therefore bringing Loki down as well.

"What on _Earth_?" sputters Loki in indignation as he hits the snow, the woman's head crashing down on his chest and her wavy brown hair flying about.

"Shit! Dude, I'm so sorry," comes the panicked, not-too-apologetic voice of the woman atop of Loki. The woman then attempts to push herself upright, but in her haste, she merely digs her elbows right into Loki's ribs in an attempt to get off him.

Loki yelps at the feeling; he is not fond of the sensation it gives.

"Was that you? Damn, you have nice abs! You are, like, as hard as the street!"

Loki frowns, not happy at _all_ to be pinned underneath such a foolish woman. Quickly, he grips the woman's arms and roughly shoves her off of him so he might he able to stand. Once he does so, he doesn't even look in the direction of the woman.

"Wow, thanks, asshole. You're such a gentleman," sounds the woman's sarcastic voice, and from Loki's peripheral vision, he can tell that the woman has gotten up on her own.

Loki ignores her then and directs his attention to Thor, who is staring in bewilderment at the woman who ran him down with her car. Loki, recognizing the look to be one of attraction, resists the urge to roll his eyes.

"Thor," he calls subtly, "you ought to get to a doctor." He says it not because he cares, but because he feels as though Thor should be diagnosed with something so he will not get the company just yet.

Thor looks to Loki as if barely remembering he is there. "Ah, Loki," he says. "Thank you for your concern, but I will be alright; the car came at a slow speed."

The woman who is fawning over Thor pipes in and says, "Are you sure? I am really so sorry. The street was icy, and my intern tried to move the wheel-"

"Your awesome intern," interjects the foolish woman Loki all-but-met.

Thor just smiles at the woman's worry. "I am fine," he assures her. "Though, I do believe since I have been acquainted with your car, I ought to know you as well. May I ask your name?"

The woman blushes. "Jane," she says softly. "What's yours?"

"Thor." Thor keeps smiling.

The woman Loki "met" coughs loudly to break the moment. "I do hate to ruin your moment," she says (though by the tone of her voice, Loki believes she doesn't), "but I believe your tuxedoed friend here is staring you down."

Loki notes himself as the "tuxedoed friend" but does not retort to it.

The Jane woman just blushes once more, though this time, it appears to be out of embarrassment. "Sorry," she apologizes to Loki for no aparent reason (because Loki is staring at Thor, not _her_ ). "Also, um, that's Darcy, my intern." She gestures to the foolish woman.

Loki then decides to look at this Darcy character. She is small in height, but it appears as though she is quite pretty; in the cold, her skin is a rosy pink that clearly defines her semi-proportional features. She also appears to have a good body, in retrospect, but Loki doesn't dwell on that; looks, he finds, can always be deceiving.

"And this is my brother, Loki," adds Thor, gesturing to Loki as if only introducing him for the sake of introducing someone just as Jane did (and he most likely did).

"Brother?" echoes the Darcy woman. "No way! But you're like some super sweet Prince Charming guy and your brother is, like, a total asshole!"

Loki frowns at this woman's words. Did _she_ seriously just insult _him_?

"Darcy," hisses the Jane woman in warning.

Darcy just shrugs. "You were thinking it," she says, and she directs her attention to Loki. "Sorry, but you were kinda an ass. So let's start over, 'kay? Hi, I'm Darcy." She holds out her hand as if to shake, which Loki sneers at.

"I do not wish to associate myself with you," he replies. "In fact, the only affiliation I shall wish to have with you is this: you must pay for a new suit, seeing how you knocked me down and ruined this one." He draws out one of his business cards and hands her one, finding the shocked face Thor, Jane and Darcy each give him as satisfying.

"Whoa, major asshole alert," says Darcy in disbelief as she looks at the card and than at Loki. "Geez, man, what crawled up your ass? I was trying to be _friendly_. Y'know, that one thing that you should try sometime."

Loki just stares down at the woman, finding it particularly amusing how angry she gets. "I don't wish to," he says calmly. "Now if you excuse me, I need to be somewhere." Taking his keys, Loki makes his way to his car once more.

"Loki!" Thor's voice booms as he shakily stands from the street. "You cannot-"

Loki grits his teeth and whirls around to face his brother. "Oh, shut up, Thor," he snaps. "Go about and lower yourself as to talk to these women who are clearly not in your social class, but I will not, nor will I ever. Now, good day."

He enters his car and slams the door, but not before he hears Darcy's parting call to him to "go back to the Titanic era and sink with that ship." Gritting his teeth, Loki starts up his car and drives away as quickly as he can despite the weather, knowing he will likely get angry if he does not get out of that situation.

_Sink with that ship indeed_ indeed. How pathetic that _Darcy_ was back there, calling him such names like she is better than he is. Obviously that could never be true; based on her apparel alone, Loki guesses she is poor. And to think he is the rich one! How can she simply insult him when he is so much higher in relevance to class than she is?

But like it or not, Loki has to admit Darcy doesn't leave his mind as he drives back home to his flat, and the drive takes a while. Whether it be because she is almost- perhaps even somewhat- beautiful, or because she infuriated him, he honestly can't tell. But, of course, it _must_ be the latter.

Or so he tells himself it is. Really, he doesn't have time to be drawn to women right now; he has to form a plan to get what he wants, and any poor woman off the street with a quick wit and a sarcastic tongue is not going to get in the way of getting what he wants.

And Loki, no longer Loki Odison, _is_ going to get what he wants.


	2. Burn Your Name Into My Throat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I don't like this one. Like at all.**
> 
> "Sunshine, there ain't a thing that you can do that's gonna ruin my night..." _Caraphernelia_ , Pierce The Veil.
> 
> **Disclaimer: I don't own Thor...just an unhealthy obsession with Tasertricks...**

Loki is completely and utterly stuck.

Not in a literal sense- he isn't stuck anywhere in need of assistance- though he almost wishes he was. It would be better as opposed to being stuck for ideas, which is exactly what is happening right now. And yet, he doesn't understand why. How is it that he, a man of such deceit and carefully mastered lies, cannot think of a way to get Thor to step down from owning Asgard Industries?

The problem Loki has is that, in previous endeavors to get what he wanted, he could do so through lies and deceit, dealing only with foolish strangers who knew little about business. The time he is dealing with his family, who are the people who truly _know_ him. They understand how he lies and how he is deceitful; it is even possible that they will see right through him.

Minus Thor, of course, who would not be able to see through Loki even if he were see through; the man is too dense for his own good. But even if Loki were to successfully obtain the company from Thor, there is no doubt that Odin would question Thor's motives, as well as Loki's. And how could Loki answer to such questioning?

Like it or not, Loki trusted— _loved_ — his family once. Manipulating the people who know him and his mannerisms would certainly be harder; they would be more likely to recognize his plotting. There has to be some way Loki can weave around them to get to the company, but how?

Loki frowns to himself in exasperation at the subject. Odin had insisted that Thor deserved the company, but had been vague as to why. That was just like Odin, of course; the man never knew anything besides orders and brisk, business-like mannerisms. What Loki needs is something that will make his parents ignore Thor. Something that will throw his family off about his intentions. A ploy, just as he was for most of his own life. Something that will render them unable to decipher his next move. Something that will make them do a double take about him.

Something like...

**PING**.

Distracted, Loki is jolted from his thoughts as he receives a text to his work phone. Of all business affairs he's dealt with, Loki has never had anyone send him a text to his work phone. Who could possibly be so unprofessional and juvenile as to send a text message to a business number?

Tapping the screen, Loki sees the sender is an unknown number, but the message contains an array of words that seem sort of familiar to him.

**From: Unknown Number  
To: You  
this the asshole from ystrdy?**

Loki finds that a smirk tugs the corner of his lip upwards. There is only one person who he gave his business number to that could have said such a thing, and the reminder of this Darcy girl, while not a pleasant one, gives him a conspicuous idea.

**To: Unknown Number  
From: You  
If you wish to call me so, then yes, it is. What may I do for you?**

The response is quick.

**From: Unknown Number  
To: You  
so ur like the prick who uses prfct grmmer n stuff. whatevs. listen dude imma cut to the chase. i guess i hafta pay for ur shit and whatnot so give me the details cuz i have college stuff comin up and i need this outta the way**

Loki's idea courses through his head. _Of course._ Darcy is perhaps one of the most surprising (or asinine) people he has met. If he were to have her meet his parents, perhaps he could throw them off with the illusion of him dating, which he admittedly hardly does (date, that is).

**To: Unknown Number  
From: You  
Meet me for coffee and I will explain everything.**

Her response lags considerably.

**From: Unknown Number  
To: You  
hold up y cant u just text me ur explintions**

Loki shakes his head at his screen. Silly lower-class woman. Of course she is the type to question him (and have terrible spelling and grammar).

**To: Unknown Number  
From: You  
I believe you want details, correct? So meet me for coffee.**

The response comes almost five minutes later.

**From: Unknown Number  
To: You  
fine. txt the address of wherever 2 me.**

Loki sends her the address of a good coffee shop he knows, and then he goes back to thinking. It is clear that this Darcy woman must be the shock to throw his parents off about his motives. They must believe he is lovestruck with the girl and make it seem as though he wants everything _but_ the company. However, there is one thing Loki lacks: the ability to persuade Darcy.

He honestly knows nothing about the woman, and honestly does not care to know. Yet if he is to get her to act out on the illusion of dating him, he must find some way to appeal to her. And, as much as he hates to admit it, he must also learn more about her. Hence the coffee "date."

It is a repulsive thought, to be having a date with such a woman, but Loki reckons he could be doing worse. Darcy is most annoying, but undoubtedly...attractive. _In a manner that is unconventional_ , he muses as he stands up and heads to his car, but a manner nonetheless.

On his drive to the coffee shop, Loki decides to check the messages on his cell phone (the one he doesn't use for work). Also the one he has contemplated trashing, for he thought it might not be used again.

_You have four new messages._

**BEEP.**

"Son, we must talk—" Odin.

_Message deleted._

**BEEP.**

"Loki, my love, please call me or come to visit. I love you—" Frigga.

_Message deleted._

**BEEP.**

"Brother—" Thor.

_Message deleted._

**BEEP.**

"Loki, it's Sif. Please call me or your brother. He's—" Sif. That one is unexpected.

_Message deleted._

Loki grits his teeth once all the messages are deleted. What weak fools all of them are, trying to get him to contact them. It is like they _want_ him to take the company from their hands; they are that stupid. But, well, if all goes well right now, then perhaps he _will_ call them later.

And, of course, it will go well. Loki is, after all, a master of lies.

He smirks at the title he has given himself, and keeps the smirk on his face as he reaches the coffee shop and gets a table. Suddenly, his whole plan seems to be going very well, and Darcy hasn't even shown up yet. And when she does- oh, speak of the devil.

There she is, walking through the doors of the coffee shop with a lot more tentativeness than needed. It's clear she doesn't belong among the suited men and dressed-up women, seeing how she is dressed in a long, old coat and jeans, even wearing a beanie on her head; she is too easy to spot among people like these. When she sees Loki, she goes to the table he is seated at with dismay.

Loki, in turn, rises when she approaches, still smirking. "Darcy," he says in greeting, taking her hand softly and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "Thank you for meeting me."

Darcy is obviously put off by the display Loki has given, but she bounces back quicker than Loki expects. "Well, I _did_ have a quiz for my poli sci class, but hey, luckily this came up," she says sarcastically, and she sits down, prompting Loki to mirror the act.

"I will get us coffee. What would you like?" Loki asks.

Darcy shrugs. "I dunno," she says awkwardly. "Surprise me."

Loki stands to get her the coffee. It seems she harbors some resentment towards him for the act of meeting him already, so he must cut to the chase and appeal to the woman already. He takes a caramel latte for the both of them even if he's always been partial to plain black coffee, knowing he might need the sugar to get through this meeting.

"Here you are," he says charmingly, holding out her cup.

She isn't impressed. She just takes the cup, grumbles a reluctant thanks, and blows on it immediately. When Loki takes his seat, she starts to speak.

"So how much are we talking?" she asks. "Price-wise, for your monkey suit."

Loki slowly sips from his cup, enjoying the look of dismay she wears at the thought of having to pay him. Normally he would smirk at this, but today, he knows he cannot take pleasure in schadenfreude.

"I believe we ought to introduce ourselves first," he says smoothly. "It is, after all, proper etiquette when you meet a person you are interested in."

Darcy looks thrown by the comment. "Uh, excuse me?" she says, lowering the coffee cup that is halfway to her mouth, but not before catching a whiff of it. "Whoa, this smells good. Caramel? I mean...excuse me?"

Loki raises his eyebrows at the pathetic woman's attempt to communicate. "Pardon?" he says, echoing her surprise with mock confusion.

"Pardon your sorry ass back into whatever cart you're peddling," is Darcy's curt reply. " _Seriously_? You expect me to believe you're interested in me? If this is some attempt to get laid, I'm telling you right now that I'm not into that kind of stuff."

Loki did not expect this bump in the road, but he plays it off calmly nonetheless. "And, pray tell, why would you find such a notion so hard to believe?" he asks coolly.

Darcy takes a drink from her coffee and hums appreciatively. "Shit, that's good," she says before looking straight at Loki and answering his question. "And for your question, let me say this simply: you're an asshole."

Loki smirks now; she's much too forward, but he finds the challenge interesting.

"Seriously, you are," adds Darcy in case he had not heard. "You told me when we met that you didn't ever want to 'associate' with me, and that the closest thing to meeting me would be to pay for your monkey suit. And I think you also said I wasn't from your social class. So, I really don't think you're interested."

Loki leans forward slightly, still smirking. "You honestly believe that?" he purrs, tilting his head as to gaze at Darcy better. "Now, I am willing to put the past behind us. You introduced yourself to me when we met, but I did not get your full name; perhaps we should start there."

"So you can steal my identity? No freaking way, man. That's all I have. That and a shitload of debt. So yeah, I don't really think you _want_ my identity." Darcy takes another drink of coffee. "Damn, this is like really, really good."

Loki has to fight the urge to grit his teeth. Does this lower class woman honestly dare to not listen to what he says? She is making a mistake with that. Had he not needed her, he would have called her a lot more than what he did when they met, but now he bites his tongue. His smooth lies are not working so well right now, which is surprising.

What he resolves to do is appeal to her.

"Darcy, there is no question that we got off on the wrong foot," starts Loki.

"Damn straight."

"But I believe we ought to start over," finishes Loki.

"Well isn't that just _so_ funny? I think I told you the same thing yesterday, asshole," snaps Darcy. "And then I introduced myself to you and you just were acting like the pompous ass you are. Now just cut to the chase with the price for your monkey suit, because I am _not_ having sex with you."

Loki has to bite back the urge to sneer now. This woman, when she speaks, just spews nonsense and stupidity. Does she not realize any sane woman would appreciate such an offer? She is clearly more stupid than he assumed at first, so perhaps he should be clearer with his intentions.

"I do not desire sex with you," begins Loki slowly.

Darcy blinks. "Really? Huh. Then just get out the price, idiot."

Loki frowns at the term, but he decides to let it go as he merely says, "I have a proposition for you, Darcy. You tell me your last name and get to know me better, and I will not make you buy a new suit, even if you did ruin the last one."

Darcy quirks an eyebrow at him. "Okay, dude, you are just bipolar," she remarks. "I really don't think that we should get to a last-name basis yet. It's bad enough we're on a _first_ -name basis. And, honestly, what's in this for you?"

So she isn't as stupid as he thought. But, while she is quick to ask the very questions he had not considered she might, she is still clueless about one aspect of him: his lies.

"Getting to know you. What else could I desire?" lies Loki smoothly.

Darcy raises a hand. "Wait, do you hear that? Yes, it's the eighteenth century calling; they want their medieval knight persona back," she says, taking a long drink of her coffee in satisfaction at her retort. "C'mon, dude, just spill! Unless it's about sex. Because if you still want sex, then I'd rather you not spill _anything_."

Loki is not surprised by her words; clearly if she is as foolish as she is, it is no surprise that she is crude as well. Normally he would frown at this, but he knows he must act as though he is genuinely interested, so what he does is say, "I mean it. I would like to get you know you better."

"Pfft, eighties rom-com lines? You clearly are desperate," notes Darcy. "But hey, I'm not a sucker when it comes to deals. If you're saying I don't have to pay for your suit, then maybe we can work something out."

Loki has to resist the urge to sigh in exasperation. That is what he has been suggesting this whole time! It is, after all, a perfect appeal to a lower-class woman: the act of not having to pay for something expensive.

"Precisely," says Loki instead, and he has to fold his hands together on the table as to avoid rubbing his temples in exasperation. "So, let me make up for yesterday. I am Loki"— here, he almost hesitates— "Odison. And you are?"

"Someone who needs some alcohol," mutters Darcy under her breath, and she raises her voice and says, "But if I have to do this, then, I'm Darcy Lewis." She doesn't add more about how strange she finds the situation, but Loki can tell by the way her eyes look that she finds it very strange indeed.

"Lewis," muses Loki, and he trains his eyes on Darcy's, smirking slightly. "Darcy Lewis. Your name is extremely...ordinary."

"Yours isn't, though whatever your parents were on when they named you sounds _extra_ ordinary," quips Darcy as soon as the words are out of his mouth. So she is not only crude, but quick-witted as well. Oh yes, she is _definitely_ the person Loki needs.

"Charming," Loki deadpans, and Darcy shrugs in an offhanded way that shows this is only going to be more difficult for him. "Well, Ms. Lewis," he says now, "I believe that know we are acquainted better, we should exchange phone numbers."

"Geez, you make this sound like it's a business proposition," Darcy scoffs, not knowing that she is not far from right. "You clearly don't go out much, do you?"

Loki frowns. "That sort of information only pertains to me," he snips stiffly.

"So that's a yes, then. Totally called it," says Darcy cheerfully, and she reaches into her pocket and pulls out her cell phone. "But, y'know, I think you could have almost had it with this, asking-out-a-girl-wise. Almost, because I'm pretty sure if you hadn't made the offer of not having to pay for your suit, I wouldn't be doing this."

Loki fumes silently in his seat. This woman dares to suggest he has no clue what to do around women? That he is so awkward he could not have been able to lure her in had he not dismissed the payment of his suit? Clearly she has no clue what she has just been talked into, and yet, he cannot even gloat at the matter!

But, perhaps when this over, he can reveal his intentions to her. Then she will instantly regret all these insult she is giving him, and she will be sorry for ever saying such things. Yes, this could turn out to actually be a very satisfying event...

"Hey Mr. Perpetually-Brooding, you wanna join me back on Earth now?"

Loki distractedly looks at the silly woman seated across from him as she waves her phone at his face. He is about to sneer at the insult, and perhaps at her, when she suddenly breaks into a smile.

"Welcome back, Spock," she says breezily, and she passes him her phone. "I entered the number I texted you at. Just check if your name's spelled right, 'kay?"

It wasn't. Lokee Odonseen? She had outdone herself with stupidity this time.

"It isn't," Loki informs her. "I will correct it, and also change the number."

"Change the number? You broke your phone on the way here or something? I should really take notes of this stuff for Jane, because she clearly doesn't believe anyone is as bad with handling stuff as I am."

It's on the tip of Loki's tongue to say that this Jane person is right, but what he does settle for is to say, "I did not break anything. I merely have a separate phone I would rather you would contact me to."

"Two phones?" says Darcy, incredulous. "You have the money for two phones and you _still_ wanted me to pay for your monkey suit? I can't even afford two good bras, let alone two _phones_."

So she clearly does not know who he is. Smirking, Loki realizes _this_ must be why she was always made such crass comments towards his character; she did not realize just how important he is.

"I believe you do not know me, Darcy Lewis," Loki says smugly.

"Duh, I met you yesterday. And was that the purpose of me giving you my last name? So you could say my full name like a creeper?" retorts Darcy.

Loki ignores this as he sits up straight and says, "I am referring to who I am in terms of my importance. You see, I am the son of Odin Odison." There. Now let her make a crass comment about him _now_ -

And suddenly, she bursts out into laughter.

"Hold up, hold up, Odin _Odinson_?" wheezes out Darcy through spurts of laughter. "I'm sorry, but I think I understand what your parents were on when they named you: bitterness. _Odin Odison_. That"— here, she pauses to laugh again— "is _hilarious_!"

Loki frowns. "Excuse me?" he says.

"That is just some unfortunate name! Did your grandpa have a say in your name too? Clearly he must've, if he named his son Odin _Odison_ ," mocks Darcy further, making no move to relent her show of amusement.

Loki does not want to defend his father, having felt clearly wronged by said father, but he does not appreciate this lowly woman's commentary. Gritting his teeth, Loki manages not to sneer at the inferiority of her person and her comments. Clearly this is going to be a lot more painful than he assumed, and he had expected it to be a very painful ordeal.

"I am glad you find my name amusing," says Loki, frowning still, "but have you heard a word of what I said?" He said Odin's name. How can this woman still be amused? Why is she not in awe?

"Yeah, you're the son of a really bitter guy," says Darcy, grinning in her amused way and obviously thinking herself clever. "Is there something I should be getting out of this?"

"Yes. I am the son of Odin Odison." At least, he _was_.

"And am I supposed to know who that is?" Darcy says, pausing to think. "Or impressed by this? Because I'll tell you right now, that is another lame way to pick up a girl."

Loki is dumbfounded. This woman does not know who Odin is? Who _he_ is? Clearly he must remedy this. "Odin— my father," he starts, correcting himself hastily and continuing, "My father is the CEO of Asgard Industries."

Darcy bites her lip awkwardly. "Er, good for your dad, then? Honestly, I'm still here because of the whole not-paying-for-your-suit thing, and I probably need some pointers about this," she says. "Should I pretend to be shocked? Annoyed? Give me a hint at least."

Loki's phone buzzes. His work phone.

"Excuse me," he says politely, but in his mind, he is sneering at just how pathetic she is. Not knowing who Odin is, indeed! Not that it annoys him, of course; he could care less about _Odin_. What does annoy him is the fact that, as the son of Odin, _he_ should be known.

He checks his phone and sees his boss is asking him to enter work an hour earlier. This makes him frown again. Having a boss is not something he particularly likes, and is one of the reasons to get Asgard Industries to be his. Right now, Loki is stuck working for his father's company division, Jötunheim Industries, and could not be more miserable.

Oh, the workplace is adequate, and the pay even more so; in fact, through his lies, Loki was able to secure a position high enough to practically run the business himself. However, the company is not his, nor will it be; Odin had long insisted the CEO be some man who he tried to keep good terms with. That same man is Loki's boss, and that is what irks him to the point of being miserable.

"Forgive me, Darcy," he says, putting his phone away. "I must get to work."

Darcy shrugs. "Sure, whatever," she says. "I've needed to bounce since I got here. My poli sci quiz is probably over, but if I hustle, I can get to chem. Not that that's a motivation..."

Loki stands and disperses of both their coffee cups, now used to her babbling and making no note of it. He shrugs on his coat and the turns to Darcy, resolving to keep charming her.

"Thank you, Ms. Lewis, for a wonderful time," he lies smoothly, taking her hand and kissing it again. "I do hope we can meet again sometimes."

Darcy looks baffled again (clearly, she doesn't find it likely he had a wonderful time, and she is right; he didn't at _all_ ). "Er, sure," she says. "Thanks for the coffee...I guess."

Loki nods in her direction before exiting the coffee shop before she does. Entering his car, he starts the drive to his work, deciding to get there even earlier than scheduled. He does not know what to make of Darcy Lewis just yet. It is clear he needs her as a ploy, and it is clear that she is attractive in some mind-boggling way, but that is all he can decipher of her.

Well, there is her quick wit and crudeness to add to the list, but the way he sees it, both add very nicely to the fact that she is a ploy. The perfect ploy, in fact. Smiling just the slightest, Loki even imagines Darcy meeting his parents; having her laugh at Odin to his face would be, oddly, satisfying. But there is plenty of time for that in the future. Right now, the image is enough to let him know he's picked the right woman.

Odin will never know what hit him.

Smirking, Loki eases his car into his usual parking spot as he reaches the building he works in. Casually walking inside, his hands in his pockets, he is greeted with the scattering of many employees who had once be walking in his direction. How refreshing; they all fear him. Well, they very well should.

Loki reaches his office, where his secretary stammers out a greeting.

"H-hello, Mr. Odison!" she says. "You're early!"

"I am, and what of it?" replies Loki coolly.

"W-well, I didn't expect you yet, so I never got the chance to tell the woman in your office to leave just yet," says his secretary. "I-I'm very sorry, sir—"

"Woman?" Loki echoes, and he strides past his secretary angrily and pushes open the door of his office just as angrily. His anger falls through to confusion when he finds Sif sitting at this desk, casually studying some pencils and waiting.

"Loki," she says simply, lifting her gaze up to meet his.

"Sif," replies Loki, and he steps inside, shutting the door behind him. "What a lovely surprise. Did Thor put you up to this? Or, dare I say, Odin?"

"Neither." Sif stands up. "I came to see you."

Loki smirks. "Couldn't stay away, could you?" he teases, not caring how flirty that comes off as; he is charming to a fault, no matter what Darcy says. Wait. He was not supposed to think of _Darcy_...

"Couldn't stay away from your superb flirting skills, of course," says Sif dryly before she cuts to the chase. "Look, Loki, Thor told me about everything that happened."

"Of course he did," Loki says, smirking even more. "The man's head is so empty that everything he's told simply _has_ to come out of his mouth."

Sif rolls her eyes. "I already told you I'm not going to listen to you degrade your brother like that," she snaps. "I'm here because I need to know if you're okay."

"So you can tell all your findings to Thor," deadpans Loki simply.

Sif bristles. "You can't assume things like that. I'm your _friend_."

"Yes, and what a friend you are," says Loki harshly. "You called me, did you not? And, I believe, you expressed your concern for me calling my _brother_ through a message you left."

"And so what if I did? That does not have to mean anything."

"To you, perhaps, but I can read between the lines," Loki snaps. "I know you are here only because Thor wants you to be, and you cannot deny Thor anything."

"I am here because I want to make sure you're okay. That is the only reason why," Sif says firmly. "What happened to you yesterday must have been hard for you. I don't know how anyone could handle that, let alone you."

"And what does that entail?"

"It entails that you are a wreck most times," says Sif matter-of-factly. "You have always been sensitive when it comes to things. What happened yesterday had to have had a big effect on you."

"Well, you are wrong about that. It had no effect on me."

Sif shakes her head and stands, letting the pencil she had been studying fall. "You are a gifted liar, Loki," she says softly, "but I know you better than you assume I do. You, Thor, and I all grew up together."

"And?" sneers Loki.

"And I know you are lying now," says Sif. "It is alright not to be okay, you know."

Loki moves closer to her, silently daring her to keep speaking. "You are too inquisitive for your own good, Sif," he says, sighing mockingly. "What would Thor think of all this?"

"I am not going to talk about Thor," says Sif sharply.

"Well, I am. Thor is a nice fellow, of course, and the beautiful woman he met last night appeared to be even nicer. Now, doesn't that hurt you, dear Sif? The fact that Thor met a woman and is probably with her right now out of pure attraction and interest, and yet, he can't see you as anyone other than a friend?" asks Loki, smirking at how Sif's face falls. Good. He's gotten her right where he wants her.

"I..." Sif trails off, and then she clears her throat. "Loki, stop changing the subject."

Loki moves even closer so only the desk separates them. "Does it not bother you, Sif?" he asks smugly. "Such news had to have had a big effect on you."

Sif's gaze darkens at the use of her own words against her. "Loki—"

"No, please, let me speak," interrupts Loki calmly, for that is how he tears people down: calmly and coldly, so they will not know what hit them. "You see, Sif, I am very much on your side here. Thor is an idiot for not recognizing your affections, of course, but I would definitely like to see the two of you together..."

"Stop," Sif snaps.

Loki ignores her. "But, really, what do you expect? Thor is just too thick to realize what is right in front of him. Unless...he _has_ noticed," he says smugly.

Sif's eyes widen. "You did not tell him, did you?" she asks hastily.

"Perhaps, but then again, perhaps not," says Loki breezily. "And if he does have even the slightest idea that you fancy him, do you really expect him to say anything? Why would he ever say something that could hurt one of his best friends?"

"Stop," orders Sif again, though more harshly. "Listen to me, okay? You—"

"No, _you_ listen to _me_ ," Loki snarls, slamming a fist down on his desk. "You are just as thick as he is, Sif. You don't realize that he has never said anything to you because clearly your feelings are not mutual. They will _never_ be mutual. You are doomed to be ranked low forever. By him, by everyone..."

"Stop!" Sif moves away from his desk, and she actually looks quite hurt; that means Loki has done well on his task of tearing her down. "You are messing with my mind because you're upset."

"I am messing with your mind because I must," retorts Loki.

"No you mustn't. This is not _you_ , Loki," says Sif, attempting to be gentle, but still looking upset at how well Loki has torn her character down.

"Oh my dear, dear Sif," Loki purrs. "Of _course_ it is."

Sif angrily strides to the door, but before she exits, she turns around and angrily says, "I was trying to help you, and you purposely made me upset. If this is how you're going to keep acting, Loki, then I hope for Thor's sake that he never accepts you as his brother again."

"That makes two of us, dearest," says Loki smugly, and he watches as Sif leaves, angrily slamming the door behind her once she's gone.

Satisfied, Loki sits down at his desk, carefully rearranging the pencils Sif had been studying back into a cup he kept on his desk. He is about to call for his secretary to bring the reports for today when his eyes fall on the framed picture Thor had insisted Loki keep on his desk when he first got his office. It is a picture of Loki, Thor, and their parents, all of them younger and more naïve as they beam for a reason he does not recall.

Loki lets his fingers rest over the picture once, lingering on the faces of his parents, before unmistakable fury rises in his throat. The sight of the people he once thought to be his family is enough to drive him upset. Angrily, he throws the picture on the ground and is rewarded by the sound of the glass breaking.

And how metaphoric it all is, isn't it? He has dropped the perfect image of his family to the point where it is broken, and now all he's ever going to do when he gazes upon the image is find it cracked. And now, with the help of Darcy Lewis, he is not only going to crack the image, but he is going to shatter it.


	3. Our Horrors and Our Demons To Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I literally have six of these chapters completed but I don't want to post them; it's just harder for me to format on this site. Plus, I'm lazy, so this one is all for right now.**
> 
> "If I let you in, you'd just want out; if I told you the truth you'd vie for a lie..." _Don't Go_ , Bring Me The Horizon.
> 
> **Disclaimer: I don't own Thor. Seriously, I don't.**

There is no delaying it any longer.

Loki must make amends with his family. Not for any sentimental reason, of course; he must do so only because he requires to introduce Darcy to them. He must also get Darcy to be his _girlfriend_ of some sort, but first and foremost, he must talk to his family and assure (lie) that he has forgiven how they have wronged him so.

Skilled as he is at lying, he is unsure of how he will do this. He knows not how they will react to him, for starters, or how he will even word his assurance. He is pondering this, and making a masterful picture in his mand, when there comes a knock to his office door.

Loki looks in the direction of the door. "Come in," he calls, putting his planning aside in his mind. He has no appointments scheduled for today, so he vaguely wonders who it could be.

The door creaks open, and his secretary peeks in. "H-hello Mr. Odison," she stammers. "Forgive the intrusion, but there is a woman here to see you."

Loki, remembering Sif's visit from a few days prior, frowns at the notion. "Turn her away," he informs his secretary coldly. "I have no wish to see her again."

"A-again, sir?"

"Is she not the woman who intruded on my office four days ago?" asks Loki in exasperation. Honestly, one would think he would have better help. He would have fired his inept secretary by now, but she has been the fifth this month and he can't risk how bad it makes him look among the other workers.

"N-no, sir, this is someone else."

Loki raises his eyebrows at that. He already knows there are no appointments today. Could it be his mother? Only she and Sif know where he works, and Sif is not foolish enough to return to see him so soon. More importantly, if it is his mother, is he willing to let her in?

Taking a deep breath, Loki says, "Let her in."

He begins to shift papers off his desk as his secretary shuffles away to let the unknown woman in. He is tucking said papers into a folder when he hears the click of the door closing and the voice of a women who is most assuredly _not_ his mother.

"Nice digs," comes the approving voice of Darcy Lewis.

Loki looks away from his papers in surprise. She is certainly the last person he expected to see here. What purpose does she have here? How did she find him here? She did not even know Odin's name. How did she manage to track him down here when she clearly knows nothing of business?

"Darcy," says Loki finally, processing the shock but playing it off calmly.

Darcy nods. "Yup, that's my name," she says proudly, and her eyes linger around his office for a good amount of time before she adds, "Oh, forgot to say hi. So, hi."

Loki quirks an eyebrow at the odd commentary, but he ignores it and motions for her to take a seat at one of the chairs situated before his desk. "Have a seat. Can I offer you a drink?"

"Whoa, you drink on the job? You gotta hook me up!"

Loki frowns at that. "I was referring to coffee or water," he informs her.

"Damn, I could've used a drink," says Darcy unabashedly. She takes a seat and starts to remove all of her outerwear, which involves a dreadful beanie on her head and a shabby winter coat. "Well, if alcohol's out of the question, I'll take some coffee."

Loki nods, standing to start the coffee maker he keeps in his office. As the coffee brews, he turns to Darcy (who has integrated herself in his office too well) and lies, "Not that I am not glad to see you, but, may I ask how you found me?"

"Google," replies Darcy. "So I guess your dad is pretty famous or something? At least with business and whatever. I still find his name freaking hilarious, though. There was a news article about you, so I came here and asked for you. Funny, your secretary told me I was one of the first women to ask for you."

Loki frowns in annoyance. "I have to fire her," he mutters to himself as he starts to fix their coffee. "Would you like milk, sugar, or cream?" he asks.

"All of 'em, I guess," says Darcy, shrugging.

Loki complies, and he goes back to his seat, sliding a cup to her. He watches as she blows on the hot liquid and happily begins to drink from it not a second later with no regard for the temperature. She must be chilled from the weather outside; it is winter, after all.

"So what brings you here?" asks Loki as he begins to sip at his own cup.

Darcy sets her cup on the table. "Honestly?" she asks, and at Loki's nod, she continues, "I was curious. I still don't really understand you, since you're like an asshole one minute and then not an asshole the next, so I thought I'd try to find out."

Loki smirks. "And why would you do that?" he asks smoothly.

"Boredom? I really don't know," Darcy says, shrugging once more. "But I figure, if you claim that you really like me, then we should take this the old-fashioned way; I ask you what the hell you're doing."

"Clearly you and I have different idea of what is old fashioned," notes Loki dryly.

"Hey, don't be an asshole," chides Darcy. "I really need to ask what the hell you're doing. Like, what are you playing? Or what are you _on_? What kind of guy just snubs a girl and then tries to woo her? I don't get it. I don't get _you_."

"And yet you wish to 'get' me. Is that it?" asks Loki teasingly, finding that, surprisingly, this lower-class woman is actually quite stimulating in terms of wit.

"I dunno. This is all really weird to me." Darcy pauses to take another drink of her coffee. "Maybe we should just talk or something. Try to understand each other."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. For one, you can tell me why you're supposedly interested in me."

Loki leans back in his chair slightly, smirking at the way the lower-class woman says such a comment. "Who would not be?" he says smoothly, though in reality, he can think of several reasons why he is _not_ interested in her. Her social class, her crudeness...

"Ah ah ah, I don't take that shit," comes Darcy's swift rebuttal.

Loki smirks even more. "You are quick, Ms. Lewis," he says. "I would assume you figured it out. I find you interesting, for you are unlike any women I have met before. I would like to get to understand you as you wish to understand me, and that is why I am interested."

Darcy, in return, blurts, "Dude, if you're gay, just tell me now."

Loki, who had been taking a drink from his coffee cup, sputters at the prospect and hurriedly sets the cup down. "I beg your pardon?" he asks, disgruntled.

"C'mon, it all adds up! Why you're so into your fashionable monkey suits. Why your secretary has never seen other women come into your office. Why you clearly don't have a way with women. So if you're looking for some straight cover while you get down and dirty with some guy on the side, I have to tell you, I'm not your girl."

Loki frowns in disgust. "I assure you I am not a homosexual."

"Oh. But, you made a face. You aren't homophobic either, are you? Because if you are, that's another thing I'm not into. I'm all for marriage laws between everyone, no matter what. So...you're not homophobic, are you?" asks Darcy. "Wait, never mind, I shouldn't judge. Some people are and they're alright. But you're not gay. Wait, are you _sure_ you're not gay?"

Loki blinks at the woman now in confusion. She babbles in the most stupid ways, it seems, with no real set purpose besides annoying him (and trying his patience).

"I assure you, I am not," he says, though more snippily than he needs.

"Damn, I've always wanted a gay friend. Then I could talk to you about guys. I have Jane, but lately the only guy she'll talk about is _Thor_. Thor this, Thor that, Thor who I want to be the father of my babies, whatever." Darcy pauses to sip at her coffee once more. "He's your brother, isn't he?"

"By some ungodly strike of fate, yes."

Darcy chuckles at the comment. "Hey, that was good! Y'know, 'cause Thor is the name of the demigod of Thunder or something? I only know that because Jane told me. Hey, does your name mean anything cool?"

"Loki actually is the name of the God of Mischief and Chaos," Loki admits. He's never been fond of his name (it might as well have singled him out from every social group ever), but by the way Darcy's eyes light up, it almost gives him an air of pride.

"Sweet," she says. "Chaos. I like that. I was once telling this guy-" Suddenly she pauses, momentarily distracted by something on the floor. "What's that?"

Loki follows her gaze to the cracked image of his once-family's photo on the ground beside his desk. It's been four days since he threw the picture, and he still hasn't picked it up. It would not have embarrassed him had it not been Darcy, but now, he suddenly feels as though he does not know what to do. Should he say it fell? Should he admit anything?

He could toss it out before her and call it nothing. It would be easy. All he has to do is pick it up, really, and that would not require any strenuous effort. And yet, as he places his full attention to it, he realizes that it is much more than the activity he cannot bring himself to do; it is what it signifies. He will be letting go of the only thing that represents his family at his job. Should he?

The answer should be yes. Loki is prepared to shatter the once-perfect image of his family. He is prepared to take what is rightfully his and let go of his family forever. He is prepared to do anything it will take to throw his family off guard and sneak beneath their noses, and yet, he can't force himself to throw out a picture. What is becoming of him?

Darcy pushes her chair back and she stands, going over to pick it up, much to Loki's chagrin. He objects vocally to the move, but the stupid woman goes and picks it up anyway, turning over the cracked image in her hands.

"Hey, it's you," she notes cheerfully. "And Jane's man candy. And are those your parents? They look...nice, I guess?" It's clear she notices Loki does not resemble either of them, but though she is crude, she smartly steers away from the topic. "How come this is on the floor?"

"It must have fallen," lies Loki smoothly. "I never noticed."

"Well, you need a new picture frame now, anyway." Darcy sets the picture on his desk, arranging it as nicely as she presumes. "But it's a nice picture. Real family-ish. It's sorta sweet that you have it on your desk."

"Yes, I suppose so," Loki says, letting the matter fall. "But we mustn't linger on the subject right now. I believe you said we should try to understand each other more. May I ask you a question instead?"

"You just did."

Loki imagines he must have made a face, for Darcy giggles.

"Force of habit," she explains. "Go on."

"What is your occupation?" Loki asks.

Darcy thinks about that too long. "Occupation? Like, job?"

"Yes, that is what an occupation entails."

"Ooh, sassy. It's really too bad you're not gay." Darcy shifts foward in her seat. "Well, I wait tables at a diner for spare cash to get college loans, but I don't really have some fancy-schmancy job like you do. I'm also an intern, if that counts, but that's just for college credit."

So her occupation is one of low pay. This is even more perfect. To imagine Odin's face at being introduced to women who is as crude as she and to know she is lower class? It is priceless.

"Can I ask _you_ a question now?" asks Darcy.

Loki wants to retort that she just did, as she had done to him, but he refrains from doing so. "If you must, go ahead and do so," he says.

"How old are you?" She's blunt, that is for sure.

"Twenty-seven," he replies. "Though, you do know that is often rude to ask, don't you?"

Darcy scoffs at that. "Dude, first thing you gotta know about me: nothing is too rude to ask," she tells him matter-of-factly. "Now are you going to ask how old I am?"

"I believe that would be rude," says Loki mischievously.

"Of the shit you told me when we first met, somehow I don't think you have a problem with being rude. Also, age isn't as rude as the stuff you said either, so I think you're okay," says Darcy. Satisfied, she slowly sips on her coffee, finishing it.

Loki smirks. "Then tell me, Ms. Lewis, how old are you?"

"Twenty-two. See, wasn't so hard, was it?" Darcy sets her cup on the table, smiling.

Loki surprisingly finds himself smirking once more at the banter she provides. Unlike the first time they spoke, where he was put off by Darcy's crudeness, he has now gotten strangely used to it quite easily. In a way, her quick wit is actually...endearing. But only slightly, for even though he has become used to it, there is no question that she is still annoying and a rather stupid person. And also poor, which would never work for him.

"Darcy, since we are to understand each other better, may I ask you to join me for dinner tomorrow evening?" Loki asks. "I know of a good place, and I would very much like to get to know you."

"So like a date," Darcy says.

"Yes, quite," Loki agrees.

Darcy purses her lips. "See, I'm not sure," she says. "I still don't get you yet. You refuse to ever associate with a girl and then you try to date her? You're going to have to show me something that'll really prove you didn't mean what you said the first time. Shit, that came out so, so wrong. Please don't take that as an innuendo..."

Loki ignores her rambling. "You believe I did mean what I said," he notes.

"Well, _yeah_."

She is right. He did believe everything he said. She is not worthy of associating with him. He should not have lowered himself to talk to her as she is of the lower class. And yet, she does not know just how good he is at manipulating lies

He looks at Darcy intensely, studying her face for a few seconds. He absentmindedly notices that her eyes are a brilliant blue color. "Then I assure you, somehow I will ensure that you will believe I did not mean what I said," he says. The term somehow is vague; he will do so with lies, but of course she does not need to know that.

"Okay. I mean, this is weird, but, I've been in weirder situations," Darcy says, pondering it. "So...I'll go out on a date with you if you really want that."

Loki smirks. "Very well. If you insist, then it shall be so," he ribs.

"Ass," says Darcy, but then she smiles at him. She actually _smiles_. Though she questions him far too much and is suspicious enough of his intentions, she has somehow...accepted it. A lower class woman being courted by a rich businessman; would wonders ever cease?

His secretary knocks at the door again.

"S-sir?" comes the weak call. "There's...someone else here."

Loki refrains the urge to roll his eyes. "I am currently occupied," he says.

"I-I know that, sir, but he...doesn't."

 _He_. Who could that entail? Thor or Odin? Hopefully neither.

Darcy looks at Loki. "You expecting someone?" she asks. "I can go."

"No, please, stay," Loki says. "Whoever is outside may wait."

Darcy accepts that without a word. She starts to ask about their date, and Loki just begins to supply the details of it (he has made up his mind to take her to a classy place, but really he wouldn't have gone anywhere else), when the door of his office bangs open.

Loki looks to the door in annoyance, but whatever words that he could have uttered are left hanging on his lips as Thor enters Loki's office, his tall, buff frame barely fitting through the doorway.

Thor looks to Loki in unadulterated confusion and says, "Loki, I have tried to reach you to your cell phone for the past five days. Why did you not answer?"

Loki stares at Thor in a stiff manner, his body now gone rigid and tense in his seat. He knows he is to get Thor to forgive him along with the rest of his family, but truth be told, Loki had not planned to talk to his brother so soon, hence the reluctance he feels now.

"Hello, Thor," Loki says slowly, his voice coming out low and careful.

Thor moves to Loki's desk and is about to say something in return, but suddenly, he notices Darcy. Darcy, seeing his inquisitive stare in her direction, raises a hand and waves it softly.

"You are Jane's friend," Thor notes confusedly. "Darcy, yes?"

"Yup," Darcy says cheerfully. "You're Loki's brother, right? Thor." Loki catches a glint of something flash in her eye as she adds, "Ever screamed your name out loud to the sky? I bet it'd be _thunderous_."

Loki finds himself almost smiling at that.

Thor clearly does not get the reference, for he turns back to Loki. "Brother, we must talk. I understand that you are upset, but this must end now," he informs him. "Our parents-"

" _Your_ parents," hisses Loki through clenched teeth.

Darcy whistles lowly. "Shit's going down," she whispers more to herself than anyone.

Thor looks to Darcy once more, the confusion in his eyes becoming more plentiful, before he looks back to Loki. "Brother, may we speak? Alone?" he adds.

Darcy looks to Loki, shrugging in a it's-your-call sort of manner.

"Not now," Loki decides. "I am... _occupied_ right now."

Darcy snorts at the choice wording, being as crude as she is.

Thor, however, is a very stubborn man. "No, we must speak now," he says. "Mother wishes for you to join us for dinner this evening. I told her I would speak to you about that."

"You may tell her I wish not to go," says Loki easily.

Thor, daft as he is, will not let that happen. "You must," he insists. "You do not understand how hurt you have made our parents. Our father wishes you to come home. Our mother mourns you."

Loki wants to yell. He wants to curse. He wants to see Thor cower, see him weak, see him fall. But right now, Loki is to make amends with his family, not test just how weak they are.

"Very well," he finally says. "But now you must leave."

"So you will come home?" asks Thor hopefully.

Loki sighs. "Yes, I believe I just said so," he says exasperatedly.

Thor breaks into a wide grin. "Thank you, brother," he says. "Mother and father will be very pleased when I tell them the news. I must go and tell them. Goodbye, Loki. Goodbye...Darcy." He leaves, then, looking to be in a much better mood than when he entered.

Loki leans back in his chair slightly, tired in a way talking to Thor made him. As he puts a hand on his temple, he glances over at Darcy to gauge her reaction to the conversation he has just had in front of her.

"So, he was nice," offers Darcy.

Loki grimaces. "He is who he is, unfortunately," he mutters.

"Yup, he's still Prince Charming, and you're still an asshole. Seems about right."

"What?" Loki stares at Darcy in disbelief. "How is _he_ charming?" Loki shouldn't have been as offended as he is, but truthfully, how can _anyone_ see Thor as charming? The man is thick and dumb. _Loki_ is the one who has ever been charming.

"He's got that whole dragon-slaying air to him," explains Darcy (though not really). "I mean, you should've heard Jane talk about him. Apparently he asked for her number in a way that was just _so_ sweet." Loki notices that her voice drips with sarcasm.

This causes him to smile slightly. "You believed it not to be, I presume?"

"Obviously! I mean, the guy hasn't even called her yet. How can she talk my ear off about a whole twenty minutes she spent with the guy? Twenty minutes, by the way, that I was there for!" Darcy huffs. "But either way, he seems okay."

"Yes, you believe him to be charming, and me an asshole," notes Loki.

"Um, yeah," says Darcy. "Even if you're supposedly not the ass you were when we met, I still don't forgive and forget that easily. So by my book, you're still an asshole."

Loki smirks. "And yet, you agreed to go on a date with me," he says smugly.

"Hey, I said I don't forgive and forget easily, not that I have good judgement."

"So if I were to slay a dragon for you, would you forgive me?" teases Loki, finding himself suddenly engaged in baiting the woman. In a way, he is slightly interested in the banter she offers; he's never met a woman as stimulating as she.

"Pfft, like I'd let _you_ slay the dragon. Stick to the dishes, Cinderella."

Loki finds an amused smile spreading over his lips. Darcy mirrors his expression. How stupid they must seem, smiling like idiots that a bit of conversation has provided them. Surprisingly, Loki finds he is slightly less annoyed of Darcy Lewis as he was before. Of course he is still annoyed by her (she provides a challenge he doesn't have need for), but less so.

A annoying sound then fills the room. Loki recognizes the painful sound as the ever-horrific essence of human punishment as the song "Barbie Girl" by Aqua.

"Oops, my phone," declares Darcy. She takes out a rather prehistoric cellular device and then shakes it, frowning at the screen before sliding her finger across it and putting it to her ear. "Hello? Oops, hold that thought." She pulls her phone away from her ear and looks at Loki. "Mind if I take this?"

Loki confusedly nods his assent.

"Hello? Oh, hi, Jane...Yeah, I know I was supposed to be at your office an hour ago...Well, something came up...Uh huh...If I told you that I had to go get a life changing surgery, what would you say?...Hey, it was worth a shot...Okay, I'll be there right now...Bye!"

Loki raises an eyebrow as Darcy hangs up.

"That was Jane," says Darcy unapologetically. "I gotta go."

"Oh. Of course." Loki quickly stands, prompting Darcy to do the same. It is for the best, of course; he has spent too much time with this woman. It is clear by the way he actually might _enjoy_ talking to her, and obviously, that is _not_ something he ever should enjoy. She is a nuisance. A fool. A lower-class woman. A _ploy_.

"Text me details, I guess, about dinner," Darcy adds.

Loki nods. "I will."

"Okay, cool. Uh, bye." Darcy gathers her outerwear and hurriedly puts it on, leaving Loki's office just as hurriedly to get to Jane's. Loki watches her leave and stares after her longer than he should have; he is unsure what to make out of this new development.  
.

.

.  
That evening, Loki makes it to his parents' house almost reluctantly. Of course he needs to be there, because he both promised and requires the image of pleasantry to use as part of his plan, but that does not entail that he will enjoy this.

He walks up to the door carefully, taking in the sight of the giant mansion and the carefully tended gardens surrounding it, though the gardens are covered in snow at this time of year. He has walked through these grounds so many times before, and yet, the place has made him weary. He is unsure of what he is to tell his parents exactly, even being such a master of lies as he is.

Loki moves to knock, but the door is open before his knuckles can even touch the wood. His mother— Frigga, he notes inwardly— stands in the doorway, the relief clearly displayed over her face.

"Loki," she breathes out. "Oh, Loki—!"

In a second, she has enveloped Loki in a hug. Loki, who has been tense since he began his drive over to his parents', finds himself unable to stay tense in her arms. Rather, he softens pathetically in her arms and dutifully hugs her back, inhaling the scent that is hers and feeling her small frame, which had mothered him all these years.

"Mother," mutters Loki when she lets him go. He had planned to call her Frigga, to make her feel as hurt as he had hoped Odin did, but finds he cannot when he sees her teary eyes, full of such unadulterated relief to see him home.

"Come in," Frigga says quickly, dabbing at her eyes as she steps aside.

Loki complies, slowly walking beside her and into the familiar dining room he spent every night in when he was a child. There, Odin and Thor are already seated.

"Loki!" calls Thor jovially.

"Thor." Loki nods in his direction, and his eyes fall on Odin. "Father."

Odin looks at Loki slowly, nodding slightly. "Son," he echoes.

"Sit, sit," Frigga urges, nudging Loki forward. "I hope you're hungry. I prepared so much food today. I— _we_ — hoped so much that you would join us."

Loki stiffly sits in the chair he would often sit in as a child. Any time before, he would have melted in the chair, smiling and even helping his mother as she would fuss about the food and table. But now, gazing at the perfect image of a family across him— a family that is not his— he stays stiff.

Frigga pours them all glasses of wine and then begins to set out dishes of food. Savory rotisserie chicken with juices slick over the meat, rare roast beef sliced in thin pink slices, succulent barbecued pork with the lingering smell of hickory smoke wafting from the dish, crips green salads with the freshest vegetables, pasta dishes with zesty tomato sauce and the best aged cheeses... Loki did not notice just how hungry he was before.

Everyone serves their own plates. Thor laddles the most food possible in his, as per usual. As they begin to eat (Thor, in turn, inhaling his), Odin watches Loki after the first few bites of his own food.

"Loki," he says, finally speaking. "Why did you come here?"

Frigga turns to her husband, looking worried for Loki's sake. "Odin," she warns quietly, "now is not the time. Let him enjoy his meal."

Odin keeps his eyes trained on Loki, still awaiting a response. Loki picks up his wine glass and delicately takes a sip of it, matching his father's stare carefully. He knows that Odin is awaiting; a confession that Loki is wrong, and that he, Odin, is right. Well, that is not what Loki is _ever_ going to say.

"No, it's alright," Loki says when he places his glass down. "I believe we might as well get this out of the way so we don't ruin desert. I'm here solely because I wish to make amends. That does not mean I have forgiven past events."

Frigga speaks up now. "Loki," she says softly, "please understand—"

"Frigga. Let him speak," Odin cuts her off.

Loki keeps his eyes trained on Odin. "You lied to me," he says slowly. "You led me to believe I was a part of this family. You let me believe I had a chance against Thor, but that was never the case, was it?"

"Loki." Frigga's eyes flash a warning. "Please, my love—"

"Clearly, you've always loved Thor more," Loki finishes.

Absolute silence follows. Frigga looks horrified at the prospect, whereas Thor looks confused. Odin, however, stays unreadable in his seat as his face betrays no emotion whatsoever.

Thor attempts to squash the proclamation. "That's not true, brother," he says.

Loki breaks his eyes away from Odin to glare at Thor. "Do not call me that," he says coolly. "I am not your brother. I was _never_ your brother."

Frigga gasps audibly.

Thor shakes his head. "Yes, you are," he counters. "We were raised together. We played together. We fought together. Do you remember none of that?"

Something in Loki snaps. Of course he does. But there is something else he remembers. Something that was always tucked into his heart as a young child and has emerged now as a monster of rage.

"I remember a shadow," Loki spits in disgust. "Living in the shade of _your_ greatness. I was always the disappointment. You were the one who did everything right. Being good at football and being the popular jock. You never understood what _I_ felt like, being the smaller, weaker brother of the mighty Thor Odison! You never understood what it was like to be tormented in school, in life, and to find that, once again, I can still _be_ the disappointment!"

"Brother—"

"No! You don't understand," yells Loki. "Business if what I am good at. I have always been more level-headed than you. I have always had a way with words unlike you have. I have the education that makes me better than you, and yet, father gave _you_ the family company. You would think I would not be surprised, but I thought my days of being stuck in your shadow were over. And now they're not. They never will be, will they?"

"Loki!" Odin stands up now. "Do not yell at your brother."

"I'm not a child," snaps Loki in return. "Do not treat me like one."

"Then stop acting like one."

Loki stares at his father in a fury. "Is that all you are going to tell me, father? Are you not going to yell to me about how wrong I am? No, because I am right. You favor Thor over me. You always have."

"I already told you that I did not give Thor the family because I favored him more," says Odin calmly. "I would advise you not to bring up the matter again."

"I have a right to the company," argues Loki angrily. "It is my birthright."

"Your birthright was to die!" roars Odin with just as much anger in his voice.

Loki falters. Perhaps birthright was the wrong word choice.

"Now, if this is your way of making amends, you have done a poor job of it," adds Odin, and he sits back down. "I will not offer you the company, my son, nor can I reverse time to tell you of your parentage. Tell me what your mother and I can do to make amends with you as well."

Loki knows he has fucked up. This exclamation of emotion he has given his parents an insight on his mind. An insight on the bitterness that has been kept bottled up for years. This sets back his plan considerably, for he knows now that his parents see how hurt he is by them, and how he considers the company to be rightfully his.

"I must go," says Loki quietly, hoping to sound sincere, even though he wishes to yell until he is satisfied to his father's face, to see Odin suffer just as he did for so long.

"Loki, please," Frigga interjects. "Hear us out, my love. You believe that we loved Thor more than you, but that is not true by any account. We love you both equally. As for the company, I cannot tell you why your father did not wish to give it to you, but that is his business, if he wishes to tell you."

Odin raises his wine glass to his lips. "I will tell him, if he will listen," he agrees.

Loki looks to his father and wills himself to stay calm. "I'm listening."

"You have prided yourself to be more suitable in many ways," Odin notes. "You are, for the most part, level-headed. You are also very well educated. But you lack conviction. You just yelled out your fury to us like a child throwing a tantrum and have mourned something you have never had. Thor is much more suited than you."

 _Thor_. As if _Thor_ can be more suited. Thor is outspoken, loud, and stupid. He is always too proud, too dull, too sure of himself and much more rash than anyone Loki knows. _Thor_ is the type to yell out his feelings like a child, not Loki. It is clear Odin does not wish to give the real reason.

"You're lying," Loki informs him coldly.

Frigga looks to her son in exasperation. "Loki—"

"No, Frigga, let him believe what he will," Odin cuts her off, looking to Loki coolly. "Now let me ask you something, Loki. Are you or are you not my son?"

"I'm not," Loki says.

"You believe yourself not to be my son and yet you wish to make amends. Is that so?" asks Odin, looking a mixture of amusement and anger.

"Yes. I wish to make amends," repeats Loki.

"Amends, and for what? You have expressed your displeasure of being a part of this family. Perhaps what you seek is something else. Asgard Industries, for example," says Odin slowly.

Loki grips the tablecloth on the table harder than he needs to. "No," he lies through his teeth. "I may be the one more suited for the company, but I could never accept it."

"And why is that?" Odin asks.

"I do not desire what it would bring me. Fame, wealth, power," lists Loki readily. "They are all things of no importance to me. What I need right now is a family, and that is why I have come to make amends."

"Yet you do not wish to be part of this family."

"I do not wish to be _your_ son. That is all I have said."

"Nor Thor's brother. Where does that leave you?" fumes Odin.

"As my mother's son," Loki says.

Odin frowns. "You are a petty fool, Loki," he says. "What use are amends if they are but with one family member?"

"Odin," reprimands Frigga sharply. " _Please_."

Loki stands up now. "It is how I wish to begin," he says. "Slowly. Surely you do not expect me to recover so easily, do you? Now, if you excuse me, I should be leaving."

Odin stands up as well. "We are not done here," he says.

"Yes, _Odin_ , we are." Loki gazes at his father coldly and then turns and leaves, leaving behind his full plate. Frigga's chair scrapes back and she hastily follows.

As Loki yanks open the front door, Frigga places a hand on his arm.

"Thank you for coming, my son," she whispers dejectedly. "I apologize for your father; he is a very stubborn man. Much like you, I'd say, but not quite. Please don't leave just yet. Would you like me to wrap up your plate?"

"No, mother, I am fine," says Loki stiffly.

"I will. Stay here." Frigga leaves and Loki, against his better judgement, stays.

Really, Loki ought to be upset with Frigga as well. She lied to him just as Odin did. But there are more things Loki holds Odin for: giving the company to Thor and always praising Thor throughout his life while giving no thought to Loki. Frigga was always the one to be by Loki's side, to offer quiet bits of advice as Loki suffered through school, loving both her sons the same. Loki finds he really does not despise Frigga, nor can he cast her out. She is perhaps the best thing that could have come out of this painful ordeal today.

"Here you are," Frigga says, returning. She presses a wrapped dish in Loki's hands. "I do hope you will return sometime soon." She presses a kiss to her son's cheek and adds, "And please never think yourself a disappointment. You're wonderful, my Loki, and I would never give you up for the world."

Loki kisses her cheek and nods. "I will return soon," he agrees.

Frigga smiles at him sadly. "Oh, and by the way, your father is holding a charity gala soon," she adds. "It is in about a month and a half. I know it's a while from now, but I hope you will consider coming. Here is an invite." She presses a card into his hand, the sad smile never fading off her lips. "Stay in touch."

"Of course, mother," Loki tells her quietly, and Frigga bites her lip sadly and then retreats back to the dining room. Loki opens the front door and walks out onto the snowy grounds, glancing down at the invite in his hands.

The information the card gives is usual. The date, the place the gala is to be held, and a little information of the charity the gala will be helping. It isn't until Loki reaches his car and sets everything down in the passenger seat does he realize the invite reads "free entry for you and a guest." Loki sits down in his car with the gears in his mind turning. What if Darcy Lewis were to be this guest? Surely a month and a half is enough time to persuade her to be his girlfriend, and enough time to persuade Odin that Loki does not want the company (even when he does).

Loki smirks as he starts up the car, fully contempt for the first time that evening as his plan rushes through his head. The next month and a half are going to be _interesting_ , to say the least.


	4. He Senses Something, Call It Desperation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This is one of the shorter chapters. I'm not overly fond of it, but, I guess it'll have to do. I'm still behind on uploading chapters here.**
> 
> "A lonely speaker in a conversation; her words were swimming through his ears again. There's nothing wrong with just a taste of what you paid for..." _The Ballad of Mona Lisa_ , Panic! At the Disco
> 
> **Disclaimer-because-I-have-to: I don't own Thor.**

Sif has known Loki for a long time. Loki knows this. He respects this. He understands this. But that does not mean that, when he arrives at his flat after a day at work to prepare for his date with Darcy, he is ever going to be prepared to find Sif waiting outside for him.

Foolish Sif. What is she doing here? Surely she can't have forgiven Loki _that_ easily for his words; she is a proud woman. Surely she did not appreciate his little mind game; she is not stupid enough to put herself in the line of fire twice.

And yet, here she is, standing in front of Loki's door. The snow in her hair and the way she hugs her body indicate she must have been here a while. Loki parks his car and exits it to meet her, smirking as when he gets close to her, he sees the anger on her face.

"Hello, Sif," Loki greets her smoothly.

Sif's face is cold and stony. "Loki," she spits.

So she isn't forgiving. Well, that is the Sif Loki knows.

"You're becoming awfully attached to me," Loki notes playfully. "Showing up first at my office, and now here? I'm flattered, Sif, really, but I'm afraid I'm not the big, buff blond idiot type you so adamantly pine for."

Sif crosses her arms. "I'm not here for banter, Loki," she informs him.

"Oh, but that's the best part," Loki says dryly. "Shall we go inside?"

Sif turns and waits expectantly for Loki to open the door, not bothering to answer. As soon as Loki has unlocked the door, Sif beats him to the handle and she strolls right in, dropping her coat and seating herself on his couch without a glance towards him.

"No offense, Sif, but I do hope this isn't going to be a habit of yours," Loki calls as he goes into his kitchen, taking out a bottle of wine and two glasses. "What if I had never come home?"

"Like you have anywhere else be," is Sif's cold, calculated reply.

Loki laughs. "And, of course, you don't either," he says knowingly, entering the living room and offering her a glass. "That's why you're here, isn't it? Thor not answering your phone calls?"

Sif pointedly ignores the glass. "I'm not here to talk about Thor."

"As you insist every time we have these little talks," Loki notes. "So if you're not here for my brother, _do_ tell what you're here for. Surely it isn't for _me_."

"Shut up, Loki," Sif tells him coldly. "I'm not here to play games."

"Then inform me; what are you here for?"

Sif leans forward, glaring at Loki with the anger still evident on her face. "Trying to understand what you're doing," she says. "Your brother informed me that you've been trying to make amends with your family."

"And if I am?"

"Then you're not only a liar, but a fool," Sif says. "I know you don't care about your family. Last time we spoke, you expressed interest in never having Thor as your brother again."

"He's not the only person in my family," Loki reminds her.

"Yes, but he is the one who doesn't deserve your hatred," Sif says. "He did _nothing_ to you, Loki. He never knew of your true parentage. He hid nothing from you. All he ever did was love you like a brother."

"I lived in his _shadow_ ," Loki counters.

"Then tell me why that means you ought to hate him."

Loki breaks into a wide grin. "And here you said you were not here to talk about Thor," he says amusedly. "How is that working for you so far?"

Sif frowns. "Somehow, you manage to always turn this on me," she accuses him.

"Well, you didn't keep your word. Someone ought to."

"No more games, Loki!" Sif raises her voice. "Tell me what you're planning."

"And what makes you believe I am planning anything?"

"I know you," Sif says stubbornly, somehow still firmly believing that. "You've always been this way. Everything you do is a pawn in a bigger game to get what you want. I know what you want, and now, I'm seeing your pawns as well. Now tell me what else you're doing."

"My _pawns_? Sif, you've become illiterate, spending so much time with Thor," Loki mocks. "I haven't the slightest idea what you could be talking about."

"Then let me refresh your memory," Sif snaps, glaring at Loki again, this time more dangerously than before. "I know you don't care for your family. You're just pretending. What else are you going to lie about so you can get Asgard Industries?"

Sif is many things, but she is not stupid. Loki has to give her credit; she's seemingly caught on to his plan well before anyone else has. However, while she may think she's seen all what Loki has planned, she is missing one thing: Darcy Lewis. Oh, Loki was right to get Darcy to be his ploy; no one will expect her.

"Now, now, Sif," Loki says, chuckling and meeting her gaze with a cool, collected demeanor, "wouldn't you just like to know?"

Sif's jaw tightens. "Loki, your family has been a vast help to mine in the past," she says. "I will not idle by and let you destroy it. Your parents and Thor are my friends, and you are one of my friends as well. Please, let your foolish ambitions be put to rest."

"Would a friend have hurt you as I did?" Loki counters. "Would a friend have hurt your feelings, hurt you where you are the most weak? We are _not_ friends. My family is just that: _mine_. Do not stick your nose into matters that do not pertain to you."

"It is not my business," Sif admits, "but that does not mean I will not intervene. Think about what you are doing, Loki. Your father chose Thor. That is all. You should not be so thick to assume that you are the better son to have been chosen."

"I _am_ the better son," Loki snarls. "But I am not attempting anything as you are trying to pin on me. I do not want Asgard Industries. I am making amends with my family only because I wish to. Do you honestly not believe that?"

"Of course not. You lie. That is what you always do to get what you want."

"Not this time." Loki stands and checks his watch; it is already about to be six in the afternoon. "I'm afraid you have to go, Sif. I have an engagement at eight I cannot miss."

Sif stands up, looking even angrier than before. "Fine," she says. "I will go. But if you even think about betraying your brother just to steal the company, I will kill you. And don't think I won't."

"Why would I expect any less?" Loki smirks. "Goodbye, Sif."

Sif never responds; instead, she angrily turns and leaves. Well, that is just fine; it would not have worked if Sif had questioned about his engagement at eight, or if she had stayed.

After all, Loki cannot risk anyone finding out about Darcy Lewis just yet.

.

.

.

She's late.

Loki has checked his watch for the hundredth time, and it still tells him the same thing: 8:35 P.M. Thirty-five minutes since Darcy was supposed to meet him at the restaurant for their date, and forty minutes since Loki has been standing outside, waiting for her. He feels humiliated to out in the snow with just his suit and no sort of coat, but more so for the feeling that he has been stood up.

He has tried calling, but her phone must be dead, for it goes to voicemail every time. She won't answer his texts either. Loki huffs to himself in indignation at this whole ordeal. Why does _he_ have to be the one chasing this woman? This is foolish. This is stupid. This is a waste of time. He should have just hired an actor or found a more willing woman, because this is ridiculous, the way he has to chase Darcy Lewis.

He should leave. No, he _must_ leave. He cannot stick around any longer and hope this woman will show up, because he is not at her mercy. He is at no one's mercy. Also, he must look quite ridiculous to the people inside the restaurant he stands in front of, having been standing outside in the snow for most of an hour.

"Uh...hey."

Loki turns around when he hears the quiet, almost sheepish voice. Immediately he notices that it was Darcy who had spoken. There she is, standing in the snow with an apologetic smile on her face and dressed in her giant, shabby winter coat (thankfully minus the abomination of her beanie).

"Ms. Lewis," Loki says curtly, straightening his suit jacket.

Darcy bites her lip. "I'm sorry," she apologizes. "I'm late."

"Yes, you are very late," notes Loki coldly.

Darcy shoves her hands into her pockets and begins to rock on her heels. "Well, what would you say if I had a really good reason?" she asks.

"And what would that be?"

"...I had to get a life-changing surgery."

Loki has to fight the urge to rub his face in exasperation. "I believe you gave the same reason to your friend yesterday," he reminds her, silently sighing to himself at the ignorance of this woman.

" _Fine_ , I didn't get a surgery. But the day I do, I am _so_ rubbing it in your face," Darcy says, and then she hesitates visibly as she continues, "I was just trying to get ready...and I lost track of time. I'm sort of surprised you're still here."

Loki studies her face. Is she...nervous? She appears to be.

Loki clears his throat. "Perhaps we should go inside," he suggests.

Darcy's nervousness morphs into confusion. "Wait, you still want to go out with me?" she asks. "But I was late. Like, so late that you're like a walking snowman."

"I do not hold it against you," Loki says, sighing in exasperation. "Now let's go inside." There is an unsaid _you foolish woman_ at the end of his statement, but he does not say it.

He opens the door of the restaurant and lets her enter before him, knowing they must be a sight to behold, she in her poor clothing (he did say formal, did he not?), and he with snow dusted over his black suit. In Darcy's words, he is a "walking snowman," and not unjustly said, for he is rather cold and covered in white.

"Reservations under Odison," Loki tells the woman at the front desk smoothly.

"Loki Odison?"

"Yes."

"Right this way, sir."

Loki walks after the woman, with Darcy trailing afterwards dutifully. They reach their table, which is one at the corner of the restaurant, giving the air of seclusion and security.

"May I start you off with a glass of wine?" the woman asks.

"Yes, please," Loki replies. "Get the best one you have."

"Right away," the woman says, curtly nodding and leaving.

Loki turns to Darcy and pulls out a chair for her once they are alone.

"Hey, so you can be charming," she teases as she takes a seat. "I like the place, by the way. It's nice." Her eyes take in the whole place with its deep red walls, well-dressed waitstaff and customers, and the expensive art that decorates the room.

"Yes, I find it to be of my taste," Loki agrees, letting the "charming" comment slide. He is about to say something else, but then Darcy removes her bulky coat and he is rendered speechless.

She is dressed formally after all. The red dress she wears is a deep color, much like the walls, and compliments her light skin tone well. Her hair is curled so it brushes just over her collarbones, which are exposed because of the elegant dress she wears. She is almost... _ravishing_. However, she clearly does not notice the effect she has left on Loki, because she keeps scanning the room without pausing to look at him once.

"It even has a live band?" Darcy peers over at the musicians who play on a small stage towards the back of the restaurant. "Ugh, but even if the band members are alive, that music isn't. What are they playing, nineteenth century music?"

"Eighteenth, actually," Loki corrects.

Darcy snickers at that. "You're a nerd about music?" she asks amusedly.

The woman from earlier returns with a bottle of wine, pouring both Loki and Darcy a glass and thankfully making Loki tear his eyes away from Darcy. He is still unable to process the woman before him. How can Darcy look like _this_? How...had he not noticed her beauty before?

Quickly, he shakes his head at the absurd thought. No, of course she isn't _beautiful_. Just a few days ago he barely found her attractive. And, while she may look nice tonight, it is only because he has not been with another woman in a while. Yes, that _must_ be it, for there is no way he is attracted to _Darcy Lewis._

"Yo, Loki," Darcy calls. "Yes or no, you're a nerd about music?"

Loki is quickly set straight by her words. Of course he isn't attracted to this woman; just hearing the way she speaks is enough of a turn off. There is no way in hell he would ever find her attractive. It's just the lighting, and his mind working too hard...

"I-I would not think myself a _nerd_ about music," Loki finally manages out, picking up his wine glass and quickly taking a sip to wet his throat, which has seemingly gone dry. "I have a rather limited knowledge about such."

"You're so a nerd," Darcy says gleefully. "Can you play anything?"

"Piano, and violin on occasion."

"Classical stuff? Booooring," Darcy announces. "Where's the electric guitar? The drums? I'd peg you as a rocker type if you weren't in that suit. When are you ever _not_ going to wear a suit, by the way? I've never seen you look normal."

Loki sighs inwardly. He should've been prepared for her asinine questions.

"Tell me, Ms. Lewis, do _you_ play anything?" he asks, going to her first question.

"Bit of electric," Darcy says, shrugging. "I've never had the cash to fully learn, so I don't own a guitar. Also, you don't have to do the whole 'Ms. Lewis' thing. Just Darcy is cool."

"Very well...Darcy," Loki says slowly.

Darcy takes a sip of her wine and continues to look around the room. Loki, when observing her, finds her fascination with the place rather childish, but also, rather queer. The restaurant is not even one of the best he has ever been to, and yet, this woman sees it as though the room is made of solid gold.

"Perhaps we should order," Loki quickly says.

Darcy looks away from a piece of art she has been studying. "Okay," she agrees, picking up a menu that is before her. She has barely begun to read it when Loki notices that her mouth has fallen open.

"Is something the matter?" he questions, unsure if that is normal for her.

"Yeah something's the matter!" Darcy exclaims. "Do you see these prices?"

Yes, he _has_. Why is this woman asking?

"Yes, what of them?" he asks patiently.

"They're freaking expensive!"

Loki sighs. "Would you lower your voice?" he asks quietly. The last thing he needs are people of high statuses to be looking in his direction and seeing him here with this lower-class woman. There is a _reason_ he chose a table at the edge of the restaurant.

"Dude, why are you not freaking about this?" Darcy asks, pushing her menu towards him and looking to him incredulously. Her eyes are wide and her mouth still open, painting her to be the very image of ridiculousness.

"Money is not an issue here," Loki tells her calmly. "I invited you, and therefore, I am paying. Now, have you made up your mind? If you wish to hear recommendations, I suggest the filet mignon."

Darcy's mouth closes a little, but not completely. "I can't do that," she counters. "Let you pay, I mean. And what the hell is filling minion? Is that even a thing?"

Loki ignores her ignorance once more (now becoming a master of doing so) and replies, "Darcy, I am a man who believes in treating a woman on a date. Please indulge me, won't you?"

Darcy finally shuts her mouth, pondering his words, perhaps. Before she can say anything else, the waitress comes to their table, notepad in hand, and asks if they are ready to order.

"May we have a few more minutes?" Loki asks, turning to the waitress politely.

"Of course, sir," the waitress says agreeably before she turns and leaves.

Loki turns back to face Darcy and finds she is currently draining her wineglass.

"This is really weird," she groans when she is done.

Loki raises an eyebrow. "Does that mean you will let me pay?"

"Heck no. I'm just saying that it's really weird. Like...Pride and Prejudice stuff weird. God, I hated that book." Darcy sets her glass down. "No offense, dude, but why'd you pick out this place? It's all swanky and kinda ridiculous."

 _This_ woman is calling the _restaurant_ ridiculous?

"I thought you found it to be a nice place," Loki reminds her.

"Yeah, of course it is. But I'm really not used to _this_ for a first date. My last date was to the movie theatre, and the guy fell asleep during the previews," Darcy says in her usual ridiculous manner, speaking of things of no importance.

"You believe here to be unsuitable for a first date? How so?" Loki asks.

"First dates are the one you can either do good on or screw up on. There's only a fifty/fifty chance to get out with a good thing, you know? Blowing your money out on a fifty percent chance is kinda pushing it, isn't it?" Darcy asks.

Loki leans foward, smirking. "Do you have such little faith in what this could result in, Ms. Lewis?" he asks softly. "I have not found any reason why this date could be a bad one."

"Dude, I was almost an hour late," Darcy deadpans. "Don't be polite about it."

She is certainly right about this whole date process. Had it been any other woman, Loki would have gone simpler. And if the other woman had expressed half of Darcy's mannerisms, a second date would most certainly not be in order. However, Loki needs Darcy, so that is why this date is unlike any others.

"You _were_ rather late, but I forgive you for it," Loki lies smoothly. "You saw the way I was so quick to judge when we first met. I believe I must be more courteous for now on about mistakes, having made some very choice ones myself that day."

Darcy muses over his words. "So this is your attempt to make me see you didn't mean what you told me," she says. "Well played."

Loki smirks. "Then you accept I am doing well?" he asks smugly.

"Slow down, Edward, I didn't say _that_."

Loki is about to argue that she implied it when her nickname registers. "Edward?" he questions confusedly, unsure if that is something lower-class people normally refer each other as.

"Like the Twilight vampire. That's you: always tall, pale, and brooding."

"I beg your pardon?" Loki says, voice tinged with annoyance. He _is_ rather tall and _does_ lack certain pigment that makes him darker, but he is never _brooding_.

"Ooh! That was actually good. Lemme enter that as your name on my phone," Darcy says gleefully, taking out her cell phone and changing Loki's contact name to "Tall, Pale, and Brooding." She then pockets her phone and holds out her palm. "Now give me yours."

Loki eyes her suspiciously. "Excuse me?"

"Your phone. Hand it to me."

Against his better judgement, he does. Darcy then taps her own name in _his_ contacts and changes it, as well as tampers with something else, before she hands it back.

Loki takes one look at the phone and then questioningly reads, "Badass Lewis?"

Darcy shrugs. "Hey, I like it," she says cheerfully.

Loki resists the urge to roll his eyes.

The waitress come back a second later, asking if they are ready to order. Loki orders for himself, and after prompting Darcy to do so, she finally orders as well, but not before changing her mind at least three times. The waitress then leaves with their orders and a promise to refill Darcy's glass.

Loki speaks up when she is gone. "Perhaps we should get to know each other better," he offers, though the offer is one he internally sneers at. "Then perhaps you will see that I am nothing like a vampire."

"Aw, but you'd make the perfect vampire since you're all dark-haired and sexy!"

Loki raises his eyebrows at the last bit.

"Shit...changing the subject now," says Darcy nervously. "Not that you're not sexy or anything, but um, that...wasn't supposed to come out like that."

Loki is honestly surprised by her words. Can it be that she is attracted to him as he is to her? No, wait, he is not _attracted_ to her. He just finds her to be _slightly_ attractive, and that is it. But does she find him attractive? No woman he has ever been with has ever told him so. It makes him feel...prideful.

"Seriously, changing the subject. We should get to that whole getting-to-know-each-other thing..." Darcy trails off, avoiding to look at Loki directly. "Is there anything I should know about you?"

Loki decides to go along. "Such as?"

"I dunno. Crazy ex-girlfriends? Crazy ex-boyfriends? Criminal record?"

If Loki was mystified by the things that come out of this woman's mouth, this is one of them. "No," he says indignantly. "Any past partners of mine have _all_ been female"— this, he says pointedly— "and were not insane. Nor do I have _any_ sort of criminal record."

"Not even driving stuff?"

"No," Loki repeats. He is a very safe driver. What is she implying?

" _Really_? I'm the opposite," Darcy informs him. "I mean, you probably know that, since I sort of caused Jane to run down your brother, but there are so many infractions on my DMV record I've been considering to change my name or something."

So she is an unsafe driver. Noted.

"I will be sure to never let you drive me anywhere, then," Loki says. "Is there anything else I should know about you as well?"

"Well I don't have any crazy ex-boyfriends, but I do have a few that were real jerks," Darcy says. "They were bigger assholes than _you_ , even. But most of my ex-boyfriends were high school flings. Hey, speaking of, what were you like in high school?"

"In high school?" Loki echoes.

"Yeah, y'know, what were you like? Were you the popular kind of guy? The loser kind? Though if I had to make a bet, it'd be that you were the emo kid at the corner of the classroom, just ignoring everyone."

Loki pauses to take a sip of his wine as he muses over the question. He certainly knows the person he was in high school: one that was invisible. Even with rich parents and no real reason to ever be taunted in school, he was always stuck at the bottom of the social ladder because he never compared to Thor, who was on the football team and had too many friends.

Darcy, who has been watching him eagerly, becomes the slightest bit worried and asks, "Hey, you okay? You're gripping that thing a little too tightly."

Loki realizes he _has_ been gripping his glass tighter than needed.

"No, I am quite alright," he quickly assures her. "I was just recalling something. As an answer to your question, I was one of the most popular kids in school." He is lying through his teeth, but how does one say they were losers back in high school?

"Hmm," Darcy muses as well, tipping her head to gaze at Loki. "I can't see it. Did you ever at least have an emo _phase_? I can see you in band tees and with a lip ring or something."

Loki quickly changes the subject. "And who were you in high school?" he asks.

"Oh, I was the school slut," Darcy says matter-of-factly. When Loki raises his eyebrows at that, she starts to laugh maniacally. "Kidding!" she cries. "I was the class clown type. Y'know, the one that always said something rude to the teacher that made the other kids laugh? Ah, the good ol' days."

"I see," Loki says slowly, definitely imaging the maniacal woman to be just that.

They are interrupted when the waitress brings them their food. She also pauses to refill Darcy's glass and even tops off Loki's. Darcy immediately takes a drink from her cup while Loki thanks the waitress and then starts to study his meal, ensuring he got everything as he ordered.

Darcy takes a bite of her food and gives an approving look to her dish. "This is bomb," she declares, taking another bite. "Hey, I've got another question for you: what's your family like?" she asks through her food.

Loki stares at her in silent disgust before answering, "What do you mean?"

"What your family is like. That's what I mean. I really don't know anything about you except your dad's sort of famous and you have a brother," Darcy explains. "Do you only have that brother?"

"Yes," Loki answers, "unfortunately." The last part he adds under his breath.

Darcy nods at that. "So what's up with you two?" she asks knowingly. "The last time I saw you guys, it was like you had some sort of daddy issues, the way you were all 'your father!' and stuff."

Loki stiffens involuntarily. "Nothing," he says finally, softening slightly. "My brother is who he is, and I am who I am. There is a bit of... _tension_ between us, sure, but there is nothing else. We are fine now."

Darcy seems to sense he is hesitant about the subject. "Oh, cool," she says simply. "I'm an only child, so I've always been curious about that kind of thing. Sorry if that's a sensitive subject for you or something; I'm not a sensitive person about some things. Or most things."

"That's alright," Loki says through tight lips.

Darcy falls quiet, but not for long. "So if I asked if you were in an emo phase right now—" she begins, looking far too interested in the matter.

"I would say not a chance."

"Hmf. Whatever." Darcy pokes at her meal and then looks back to Loki. "Hey, can I ask you something?" she asks. "Well, something else, since I just did?"

"Go ahead," Loki replies curtly.

"Where exactly do you see us going?" Darcy asks unabashedly.

_Nowhere, you foolish woman, I am just using you._

"Pardon?" Loki asks, quirking an eyebrow.

"You're rich. I'm not," Darcy says bluntly. "I'm late, you're not. You're proper and shit and I'm _definitely_ not. You really don't have to stick out this date or anything; I'm a big girl, I can handle rejection."

So she definitely is smarter than Loki gives her credit for. She clearly recognizes normal etiquette between his class and hers, but while Loki would have loved to break ties with this foolish and ridiculously... _slightly attractive_ woman, he cannot.

"You musn't think less of yourself so, Darcy," Loki says calmly. "You are a very interesting woman, and I would like to get to know you. It is a bit premature to ask you this, but, would you agree to a second date?"

" _Seriously_?" Darcy's eyes widen in disbelief. "Um...okay, yeah, I guess?"

"Good." Loki smiles politely and then takes a sip of his wine, albeit desperately.

"But can I choose what we do for the next date?" Darcy then asks.

Loki lifts an eyebrow at this. The woman's face has lit up- presumably with an idea- and that is probably not going to end well for him. It's on the tip of his tongue to yell out _no_ in any possible way, shape, or form, but what he does do is nod and say, "Of course, if you wish to."

Darcy grins. "Sweet," she says, taking to her own glass. Her smile never falters once, and the image of her actually makes Loki smirk. Is she being _mischievous_? Loki _has_ always been rather fond of mischief...

The next hour or so arguably goes well, but Loki still often finds his feelings for this woman all over the place. He finds her attractive, and might even enjoy their banter sometimes, but then again, the woman will say something crude and Loki realizes that clearly, he's desperate. He is in over his head with Darcy Lewis, and he doesn't understand why he must go out of his way so much just to please her. It isn't right. It isn't something he enjoys.

And yet, here he is...

As the waitress comes and clears their dishes, Loki thanks her for her service before being sure to pay the bill and leave a generous tip. Darcy does at first resist Loki's paying for her meal, but also admits she did not bring enough money to cover it anyway. Ah, what a silly lower-class woman she is after all.

Loki leads Darcy out of the restaurant, and just like that, they're standing out in the cold snow, illuminated by street lights, back where they started and unsure how to proceed from here.

"Thank you for dinner," Darcy says, finally.

"It is I who should be thanking you," Loki counters. "Until next time?"

Darcy nods, smiling quickly. She is confused as to what to do next; Loki can see it in her eyes. Surprisingly, he also finds himself at a loss; he honestly has not dated a woman in such a long time. Quickly, he takes one of her hands in his, surprised by the soft feel of her skin, and drops a kiss on it.

Darcy's smile flashes once more before she bites her lip. "Well, good night," she says, slowly turning around and sticking her hands in her pockets, presumably to find her car.

"Good night, Darcy," Loki says quietly, and he turns away as well. He is fishing his keys out of his suit pocket when suddenly he feels a soft hand grip his arm, and when he turns, he is surprised when an even softer pair of lips press to his cheek.

Loki watches as Darcy Lewis then walks away, draping herself in her ugly monstrosity of a coat like the lower-class woman she is. Loki lets a hand rest on his cheek, but only to wipe the smudge her lipstick must have left on there.

Or so he tells himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Thanks for the views!**


	5. What Happened As I Let it Slip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I'm sorry for the length of this chapter, which is roughly 8,000 and something words. I know, it's fucking crazy. And also, sorry for never posting this chapter, or the sixth one; I haven't wanted to format them, but I promise, I'll have the sixth chapter up soon.**
> 
> "I was alone, staring over the ledge, trying my best not to forget all manner of joy, all manner of glee, and our one heroic pledge..." _Meds_ , Placebo.
> 
> **Dislcimaer: Thor and its affiliaties still don't belong to me...sadly.**

Darcy Lewis may be nothing but a ploy, but she is most confusing.

Loki goes to bed late a few nights after his first... _date_ with the woman, and finds that, unwillingly, she runs through his mind. Not because of any aspect of her that appeals to him, of course, but because of confusion. Darcy Lewis is a very complex woman: quick-witted, sharp of tongue, and brash and crude to not limits. However, on their first date, Loki found her to be...less so.

He does not understand. While he does pride himself to be charming to a fault with women (Darcy knows nothing), and while he can lie like no other, he did not expect Darcy Lewis to succumb to his plan just yet. He expected more difficulty. More challenge. She provided nothing but small talk and even a willing kiss to his cheek in parting. And banter, of course, but less than he had anticipated.

What are her plans? Her ambitions? What does _she_ seek from Loki, if she seeks anything at all? Other women have had one thing in mind: his money. Perhaps that is what sways Darcy Lewis as well; he did, after all, take her to a very expensive restaurant. He also assured her that he enjoyed spending time with her (what a laugh, that), and perhaps that is what made her go soft: genuine emotion.

Loki smirks to himself slightly as he turns off the lights of his room, slowly sinking down into his bed in satisfaction. Ah, how his lying always comes in handy. But no matter of his lies, no matter how artfully they have been designed. What matters now is that he has a ploy, but like all ploys, he must use her carefully.

Loki's plan has always been to introduce Darcy to his parents, assure them he did not want Asgard Industries, and slowly make them believe so by continuing to court the woman (the thought makes him grimace). Then, when they believe him, Loki will get to Thor and trick his brother into handing over the company himself, though with lies or guilt he has not decided. Either way, it will be foolproof, for Thor is thick enough to fall for any trick easily.

It will be his best work of lies yet. Thor is such a fool that, when Odin and his mother are tricked, Loki will have no trouble with taking the company from the oaf. At the least, Loki will inform him of how coldly Darcy left him and guilt Thor into giving him the last possible thing that could bring him happiness (because of course Loki is going to end things with the woman as soon as possible).

And then, won't it be just _grand_? Loki will have Asgard Industries. Darcy Lewis will be out of his life. Thor will no longer be the good son, the _better_ son, the one who won everything. His parents, though perhaps not as accepting, would see, in time, that Loki was always to be suited for the company. Perhaps Sif was right; this is a game. And, dare he say, he has many well-suited pawns he is playing.

Like every game, there is a special pawn that is left to the end, to be used to win it all. Loki regrets that this pawn might very well be Darcy, but at the same time, he revels in this, for there is one thing he has not thought of this: his own sense of satisfaction in the end of it all. When _he_ is the rightful owner of Asgard Industries, he will have it all. And, when he ends all relations with Darcy Lewis, he will have even more. To see her break, to see her fall...that is all he desires. She was— _is_ — as foolish as to say such things about him, and that is what she deserves, the lower-class scum, daring to demean him and then kiss him as if...

Loki, who had been drifting into sleep, awakens with a jolt. He will not let himself finish the previous thought in fear of what he is letting his mind do: assume things. Darcy Lewis does _not_ feel anything towards him; she barely knows him, and thinks him snobby and indifferent (which he is— indifferent, but not snobby). Even if she does not feel anything, there was something off about her the last time they met. Loki does not know what it was, or whether or not he likes the idea.

Slowly, he sits up in his bed, pushing the soft covers off his body. He exits his room and goes into his kitchen, pouring himself a drink of water; he finds he needs something to take an edge off of his mind. As he swallows the cold, satisfying liquid, he comes to decide he must merely go to bed and forget all he has thought of tonight. His plans are only going to work if they stay as they are, and for now, all he must be concerned with is getting Darcy Lewis to be his, no matter how redundant the matter is.

Loki gets back into his bed and tries to banish all thoughts of her from his mind. He is not the type to obsessively think of his plans; he is the type that, with little planning, can get his way even without thinking it. This plan is clearly taking its toll on him; he'd better fall asleep as quickly as possible.

The covers he pulls over his body are warm in contrast to the cold December winds howling outside. Even though the month has barely begun, the days are as cold as any that could dawn in the later days of the month. But Loki has never been one to mind the cold; in fact, he prefers it. This prompts him to push the covers away slightly, welcoming the chill and the allure of sleep. It would surely soothe his mind...

Loki glances quickly at the alarm clock by his bed. It is nearly one in the morning.

Closing his eyes, he breathes in deeply and lets himself fall asleep. And even as tendrils of sleep drag him under, he finds himself somewhat... _uneasy_ about the possible idea of Darcy Lewis using him as he is using her. Well, that is not anything he must concern himself over; in the end, she will get nothing.

For a while, rest comes easily. The hours that tick by are one of blissful unconsciousness, even short as they are. And they are short indeed, for even though Loki does not have to go in to work until eleven in the morning, he finds himself awkwakened at 6:00 A.M., and not by his own choice. No, it is by Darcy Lewis's, for that is when she calls his cell phone and startles him out of his restful slumber.

Now, Loki is a very patient man. He would have not minded this wake-up call, as he would have been able to play it off, had it not been for the song that played when his phone rang. A song, might he add, that Loki specifically never would have set as his ringtone. Said song was hardly a _song_ , either. It might as well have been painful white noise, for it was "Barbie Girl" by Aqua. The same ringtone Darcy has. That must have been what the foolish woman did beside change her contact name; change his ringtone as well.

Against his better judgment, Loki answers. "Hello?" he says lowly, trying to bottle his annoyance, even though he couldn't help his tone of voice becoming slightly tinged with it.

"Loki?" inquires Darcy.

Loki sighs; _of course_ it's her. "Yes?"

"When do you go into work today?" Darcy questions, not even bothering to apologize for waking him, nor bothering to say anything of the ringtone abomination.

"At eleven in the morning," Loki replies, and he finds himself unable to surpress a sudden yawn that dawns when he realizes he could still be sleeping.

"Oh. Well this is awkward," Darcy says. "I called early hoping to get you before you had to get to work, and you're going in like really late." Still, she does not apologize.

Loki closes his eyes. "Yes, well, now you know," he says in a clipped tone, trying hard to keep hiding his annoyance. "May I inquire upon your reasoning for such a call?"

"You said I could choose our next date," Darcy reminds him.

So he did. And rather foolishly, might he add.

"Yes, of course," Loki says. "You wish to go out on a date soon?" It has only been a few days since their first date; Loki had not expected Darcy to be so eager as to go on another date so soon. Perhaps this is part of her own ambitions of using him, if she is using him as he suspects.

"Yup. When do you get out of work?"

"Six," Loki replies.

"Cool, then how do you feel about a date after you get out of work?"

"Very well," Loki says tiredly, and he leans his head against his pillow before adding, "What is your plan for this date?" Whatever she has planned, it must be something only someone of her class would enjoy.

"Three words: Christmas tree lighting," comes the happy response, and even if Darcy is on the phone, Loki pictures her grinning face much too easily for six in the morning. "Meet me there at eight, 'kay?"

What the woman refers to is how, one week before Christmas, a large tree is situated in a park in the center of the town, and said tree's lights are lit once every night, up until Christmas. It is meant to be a time of merriment, as there are always venders of hot chocolate and carolers abound wherever one goes, and families milling about at booths where vendors sell other objects to the winter-induced masses seeking enjoyment. Loki has never found the place appealing; he enjoyed going as a child, but now finds no use for it.

Still, right now he sighs; clearly this woman is going to be the death of him, for he knows he very foolishly agreed to let her choose their next date and must do as he says. If only his business enemies could see him now; surely, they'd laugh into cardiac arrest at the irony.

"Fine," says Loki finally, dismissing all other objections (at least verbally).

"Sweet! And also, don't wear a suit. Dress like a normal human being."

Loki frowns. "I _am_ a most normal—"

She hangs up without as much as another word or goodbye.

Still frowning, Loki turns off his phone, bemoaning his lack of luck. While at times it seems to be a good move on his part to get Darcy Lewis involved with his plans, other times he realizes that this woman is going to ruin him, whether or not he likes it.

He sighs and leans fully into his pillow, allowing his tired eyes to drift shut. The thought of sleep— once a comfort— tortures him when he realizes he might not get to sleep again, having been so fully woken.

.

.

.

Loki leaves his house a half hour short of the time he is supposed to meet Darcy. The drive to the park is too long, and Loki finds himself disoriented as it is. He is quite annoyed that Darcy insisted he wear something other than a suit, for he often wears his suits most places he goes. Oh, the ordeals he puts himself through to appease this woman...

Reaching the park, he spots the woman's ridiculous beanie and coat as soon as he pulls in to a parking spot. Upon exiting his car, he disdainfully tugs on the sleeves of his own coat. The cotton shirt he wears underneath, paired with the dark jeans, are not a combination he likes. To add to his discomfort, he has also not eaten since he got off from work, having to go out and buy this combination of clothing he wears now and go home to change into it quickly.

"Hey!" Darcy jogs over to him, beaming ridiculously. "You came!"

"We did establish I would, yes," mutters Loki.

" _And_ you look human. This is a Christmas miracle," declares the foolish woman, but she still looks absurdly happy for some unknown reason. "Now c'mon, let's get in there! I want to see the tree."

Loki resists the urge to question why— surely she's seen a _tree_ before— but he decides to stay silent and let the woman grab his arm and tug him deeper into the park grounds, where a tall, vast tree stands waiting. Excited onlookers are around it, all of them awaiting the ceremonial tree lighting as well.

Admittedly, Loki remembers this tradition. He remembers coming with his mother as a young boy a few times, the two of them sneaking out of the house because Thor and Odin never were interested and often immersed in some sports game on television. He remembers how Frigga would lift him as high as she could to let him see the tree better, and how he would always laugh at the feeling and insist she was stronger than Odin could ever be. Afterwards they would get hot chocolate and walk around the park, hand-in-hand, and even later on arrive home with warm stomachs and cold cheeks, both absurdly happy as the woman beside him seems to be.

Loki swallows thickly at the memory, blinking back to reality as Darcy makes an inhuman squeal beside him as the lights of the tree are lit. Vaguely he hears the excited cheers of some young kids, eagerly holding their parents' hands, and Loki looks over at Darcy and finds her expression similar to that of those children: eager, and too excited. Her eyes seem to be lit up with eagerness, and the way she rocks on her heels eagerly gives her away as well.

In a single quick movement, she turns to look at him. She smiles as their eyes connect, though a little too excitedly for Loki's taste. Loki doesn't smile back; what he does is stare back at her with confusion heavy in his eyes. Why is she so _excited_? She is twenty-two and surely past childish fun as he once indulged in. How can she, though old enough to let go such a thing, still indulge in it? How can she easily go back to those days?

Loki finds himself unsure as to what to do when Darcy begins to clap and the others onlooking the tree join her. Loki stares at the tree, trying to see the exciting piece everyone else seems to see, but all he sees is an evergreen tree with strings of small, illuminated glass bulbs stringed over it. Where do these people find merriment in it? How did _he_ ever find it exciting as a young boy?

Darcy's hand suddenly brushes past his, making Loki look at her in surprise, and then her finger finishes its descent to prod his shoulder teasingly. "You okay there?" she asks, the tease of her motions mirrored in her tone of voice. "You're staring at the tree like you want to murder it."

Loki clears his throat. "Of course," he assures her. "I...was merely lost in thought."

Darcy looks back to the tree, still beaming. "Yeah, I do that too, whenever I come here," she says, and her tone of voice slips into one of pure wistfulness for a second. "It's magical, isn't it?"

 _Magical_ is not the term Loki would have used. _Haunting_ is more relatable.

"Quite," he agrees, albeit unwillingly.

Darcy sighs in contentment before looking back to Loki. "Is this the first time you've been here?" she asks. "Y'know, to the whole tree-lighting thing?"

Loki could've easily lied and said no. He could change the subject. But he finds himself doing neither; instead, he nods, looking out to the tree quietly. Past memories with his mother, he finds, haunt him. While he finds himself unable to resist his mother's affection, he cannot help the burning feeling of knowing she lied to him all these years, and that she is not his real mother.

"Really? I never would've pegged you as the type," says Darcy, and she studies him with scrutiny. "You strike me as a Scrooge who goes around saying 'Bah humbug' and throwing snow in the faces of small children."

Loki finds himself unable to resist rolling his eyes. "How did you deduce such a thing?" he asks, because while he's never hated Christmas, he's always just sort of tolerated it.

"Um, you're an asshole, remember?" Darcy reminds him.

Loki quirks a brow at this. "You still think me as such?" he asks.

"Duh," is Darcy's curt reply. "Why would you even _think_ you were in the clear with that? I don't hate you or anything, but if you're an asshole to me, then you're staying an asshole until I decide you aren't."

Loki finds himself vaguely... _amused_. "So you do not hate me," he notes.

Darcy shrugs. "Eh, I really should, for the things you said," she says unabashedly, "but I said some rude stuff too, and called you some names. Or lots of names. Point is, our whole...thing, whatever we have, is kinda rocky. So I'll try not to call you an asshole, and you can try not to be one, 'kay?"

Loki wishes, for once since he has met Darcy, to understand what she can be thinking. While he has his suspicions of the woman, the way she stares at him, jaw set in determination and willingness to wait for an answer, makes him nod.

"Very well," he says, but he can't help smirking at how ridiculous this is.

Darcy frowns when she notices this. "Hey, you're laughing. Stop laughing! I'm being _serious_ , you know," she complains, swatting at his arm lightly, but even she can't help breaking into a smile.

Loki finds himself chuckling slightly, for he is amused by how easily Darcy is swayed to involve herself with him. It is as if she trusts that he can change his character to appease to her. And while she is not completely sold with their... _relationship_ , as one is supposed to evolve, Loki finds his plan, which requires her, seems to be right on track.

"I _am_ serious. Like, one hundred percent serious. You're still laughing!"

Loki finds himself giving Darcy an amused half-smile. "Forgive me, Darcy," he says smoothly. "Of course this is a serious matter, but you will have to excuse that I am not accustomed to such matters as these. I find them quite...humorous."

"So when you're told not to be an asshole anymore, you find it funny?" Darcy's face scrunches in confusion. "You didn't exactly do that the first time. Wait, when was the first time I called you an asshole? I lost count...I think you just brushed me off and left..."

Loki shakes his head at how she rambles. "It is better if we do not live in the past," he reminds her. "Now, was _this_ your whole idea of a date? As much as I appreciate cheap lighting, I figured you'd have planned something more... _tasteful_."

Darcy scoffs at that. "If that's your hint for another five-star resturant, I can't do that; I'm broke. Literally broke, because that's what us college students are," she says. "But don't worry, this date's not over yet! How do you feel about singing?"

"What?"

Just like that, Darcy takes his hand and pulls him away from the tree with childish excitement. Loki, though superior in strength to her, lets the shorter woman pull his arm and drag him away because he honestly has sunk so low by this point. However, when Darcy pulls him to their destination, he realizes he has not sunken _this_ low, for he has no intention to join _carolers_.

Loki glances at over at Darcy. "No," he tells her flatly.

"C'mon, don't be a Scrooge!" Darcy counters, elbowing him (Loki makes a note to add that, on top of all her faults, the woman has no personal boundaries).

"You are calling me that solely because I refused the notion earlier," Loki notes.

"Uh-huh," says Darcy with no sense of regret in her voice. And, with no warning at all, she begins to join in on the singing. Loki certainly would have appreciated a warning; her singing voice is absolutely _grating_.

Stiffly, he refuses to join in on the singing. Even when he came to this ridiculous event with his mother, he would always just hold Frigga's hand, listening to his mother's quiet, soothing voice sing and taking in the surroundings wordlessly.

Darcy notices he does not sing, because she keeps sticking her blasted elbow in his ribs repeatedly. Loki knows he must look ridiculous now, for if no one had ever noticed him with Darcy before, they might all start looking now. Loki sighs to himself; he truly has sunk so low, hasn't he?

Quietly, he joins in on the ending notes of the song, finding that the words come easily. The song is "Silent Night," which was— _is_ — his mother's favorite Christmas song. When Darcy looks to him— still unfortunately singing as she does— her eyes smile with an unsaid happiness dancing in them upon hearing Loki sing.

Loki, while not raising his voice, finds himself compelled to sing the next few songs with her as well, though he does not understand why. For the memory of the songs, perhaps, or...something else.

By the end of the fourth song, Darcy turns to Loki, thankfully stops singing, and grabs his arm. "My throat's killing me. Want to get something to drink?" she asks.

Loki resists saying that her throat must be hurting from the way she croaked out the lyrics so loudly. "Of course," he replies, sticking his hands in his coat pockets and following as Darcy, breaking into a smile, leads him to a stand where hot chocolate is being sold.

She gets them both cups of it, happily taking hers in her cold hands and sipping from the cup right away, making a face as she burns her tongue in the process. Loki studies his cup for too long before he dares to place it to his lips. Blowing on the hot, brown liquid, he allows the first taste to slide onto his tongue.

He remembers this. The overly sweet taste of this chocolate is just as he recalls it; he recalls the memory smiling through the liquid at his mother, who would hold a cup as well, and whose eyes would smile back at him. As the liquid warms his throat, he remembers the warm feeling he would get drinking it as he walked to the car with his mother, remembering how safe and content he had felt. All at once, the warm feeling becomes stifling, and he almost chokes on the drink.

Darcy manages to outdo herself with foolishness at this point, for her eyes go wide and she immediately begins to hit Loki's back, as if _that_ is going to do anything useful. No, all it does is make Loki drop his cup in surprise; he had not expected someone of her small size to be so strong.

The chocolate falls onto the snow on the ground, staining the perfect white of it and also splattering over both Loki's and Darcy's jeans, though Darcy's recieved less of the impact.

"Shit! Sorry," Darcy says, glancing down at the spilled drink. "I can get you another one. I'm so, so sorry about that, but you were, like, dying, and—" She moves to head back to where the hot chocolate is being sold, but Loki stops her by gripping her forearm firmly.

"No," he says. "I am fine; I do not need another."

"But this stuff is like heaven in a cup," Darcy counters. "How can you _not_ need another? I haven't even finished mine and I want another one. I'm going to get you another one, okay?"

"No," Loki repeats firmly. "I am _fine_."

Darcy shifts uncomfortably. "Okay, well, fine. But mind letting go of me?"

Loki notices he is still gripping her arm. Quickly, he lets go, but not before fearing he has perhaps bruised her skin by the way he held her so tightly. Darcy's hand immediately goes to her forearm to rub the area, indicating Loki must have inflicted pain on the area, at least a little.

"Nice grip there," she teases lightly. "So you're strong, pale, _and_ brooding? You really sure you're not a vampire? Or emo? Oddly, there seems to be no difference..."

Loki sighs. "May I suggest something?" he asks.

"What?"

"You stop talking?" he offers, annoyed, letting the jab slip out.

Darcy frowns. "Hey, that's an asshole-y comment. Take it back," she orders.

Loki tries hard not to roll his eyes. "Yes, of _course_ I shall take it back," he replies sarcastically, suddenly tired of having to full-out deal with this woman. His comment was a slip of tongue, a lack of good judgment on his part, but a comment of his nonetheless.

"I'm fluent in sarcasm, and right now your accent is impeccable," is Darcy's reply. "I really _am_ serious about this thing, okay? You can't be an asshole, and I'll try not to call you any rude names or say anything. If we're gonna be friends-"

"Friends?" Loki interrupts, tasting the word and saying it questioningly.

"Yeah, friends. Maybe we should start there, anyway. Relationships are always fucked if the people aren't friends first," Darcy says. "So, that's what this date's about: becoming friends. So far all I know is you're a pretty decent singer— even if you're a quiet one— and you seem to have something weird against hot chocolate."

"I do not," protests Loki, but Darcy ignores him.

"I know other stuff about you, too," Darcy adds, and she begins to tick off her fingers. "You have a brother, you work in a boring office for an air conditioning company, your dad has a pretty funny name, you were a popular kid in high school, and your suits are, like, your lifeline. How am I doing so far?"

"Not bad," Loki answers, "but all of those are material traits."

"Oh, so you want me to give you some analysis on your character or something? I can't do that; I'm not analyzing things now that I'm not in school today. But I can tell you you're an asshole, who is at least _trying_ not to be one, so that's good."

Loki huffs indignantly at that, but lets it slide. "So you were not in school today?" he asks, changing the subject as quickly as he can and referring to what she hinted at earlier.

"Oh, no, I was. Just in the morning, though," Darcy clarifies.

Loki nods. "Ah. And how do you like your classes?" he asks.

"They're okay. I'm a poli sci major," Darcy explains, "so all we do is talk about how shitty our government is all the time. It's pretty cool, actually. You're out of college, aren't you? What was your major?"

"I was a business major," Loki replies.

"So what'd you guys talk about in there? How shitty business systems where?"

"Mostly on the trade of the work field," Loki counters.

"Boring," Darcy announces decidedly before she changes the subject. "You must've graduated a while ago, huh? What college did you go to?"

"I went to a school that my father funds," Loki admits, suddenly ashamed of having gone there for no apparent reason other than the fact that this woman will know. "Asgard University."

"Man, your dad really likes the name Assgird," Darcy notes.

"Asgard," Loki corrects. "So, then, what school do you attend?"

"A shitty one for the broke," replies Darcy easily. "Midgard University."

_The one for lower-class people. Interesting._

"I see," Loki says slowly, suddenly filled with satisfaction at the prospect; Odin has publicly made it known that he sees no reason for Midgard University to remain standing and has expressed his distaste of its students. This could be very well for Loki's plan, if he plays it right.

"So now that we're out of the whole school thing, let's talk about what _really_ makes or break friends: music," says Darcy. "Who's your favorite band? Or singer, too, but I prefer bands."

Loki has to think about that one. He does not enjoy music often, and when he does, the music is always classical. He knows not who the bands are, and there are often no singers. All he knows are composers.

"I do not know," he answers finally.

"What do you _mean_ you don't know? Music is basically my life! How can you just _not_ know? Unless you're thinking you don't know because there are too many you like and you can't pick a favorite. In that case, tell me who some of your favorite artists are," Darcy says now.

Loki shrugs. "I know very few," he says. "I prefer classical music, with composers like Bach and Beethoven, though I do enjoy a good piece by Mozart every once in a while. I also appreciate Mendelssohn's work from time to time."

Darcy snickers at that. "Nerd," she declares loudly.

Loki crosses his arms. "And you decide this based on my music preference?"

"Duh! Who the heck listens to Beethoven? That's worse than elevator music!"

Loki rolls his eyes. "Enlighten me, then, on what someone who is _not_ a nerd would listen to," he deadpans, and Darcy's face lights up; music is clearly a favorite topic of hers.

"Music is amazing," Darcy begins happily. "My favorite band would have to be the Beatles, but I love some other stuff like Led Zeppelin, Queen, and Black Sabbath. You _have_ at least heard of the Beatles, right?"

"Yes," Loki answers, "but I was never fond of them."

" _What_? You can't just _not_ like the Beatles. That should be illegal. Punishable by having to hear every single one of their albums. Do that, okay? As your friend, I cannot just let you not like the Beatles," rambles Darcy decisively.

Loki, humoring the woman, agrees to do so. They continue talking, and Loki finds himself finding out a quite a bit about Darcy Lewis. Some parts he knows; that she is an only child, that she is an intern, and that she works at a diner. Other parts he finds out are relatively new; that she lives in an apartment with her employer Jane, that she is good friends with the woman, that her parents are divorced, that she enjoys computer games and is a talented hacker of software (though Loki had no idea what to say to that last bit).

Loki shares some information of his own; that he lives in an apartment as well (though his is in a richer part of town), that he enjoys reading and dabbles in drawing, that he actually appreciates his job (because, for some reason, Darcy seems to believe it impossible).

They end up walking around the park quite a few times, sharing random tidbits of information as they walk; Darcy has somehow made Loki play a game, much like twenty questions, but where they just fire questions at each other with no limit to numbers.

"Dogs or cats?" Darcy asks a few questions in.

"Cats."

"Ick. Cats freak me out. I can see you as a crazy cat lady, though."

"I assure you, the woman in me is flattered," Loki says dryly. "Choice ice cream flavor?"

"Rocky road until the end, baby. Favorite color?"

"Green," Loki replies after pausing to think of that one for a while. As a kid he always tried to love the color blue— perhaps because of how it was romanticized by everyone as the image of masculinity— but he has always been drawn to green, as its hues could be as soft as newly grown grass or as dark as evergreen trees.

"I can tell," jokes Darcy, and Loki notices for the first time that his coat is green (alright, maybe not the _first_ time, but this is the first time he has remembered in a while). "Now, favorite drink?"

"Tea," Loki answers without a pause.

"You sound British _and_ you like tea? You're asking to be made fun of, buddy."

Loki raises an eyebrow at this. "How do I sound British?" he asks.

"There! You sounded British there. Your accent or something. You don't think so?"

"Not in the slightest, no," Loki says.

"You ever go to England?"

"Yes," Loki answers, because that is true; he's always liked to travel, and did so a lot the previous year before returning home in hope of finding a permanent place to live. He had wanted to be near Asgard Industries, which he had planned to be owning right about now. Unfortunately, he is where he is now...

"That explains it," Darcy says, nodding to herself. "You picked up the accent, but, like, lightly. I like it though. Your voice is really...smooth. Or something. I don't know how to explain it, exactly..." She trails off thoughtfully, but just gets off track and looks to Loki. "Okay, your turn for a question."

"Favorite movie?" Loki asks, placing his hands in his coat pocket as they continue to aimlessly stroll through the park. It has gotten colder as the night has grown later.

"Either _Mean Girls_ or _Sex and the City_ ," Darcy says, pondering the question longer than any previous answers she had given. "Okay, how about this one: winter or summer?"

"Winter," Loki replies.

Darcy shivers, as though his reply reminded her how cold it is outside; she draws her coat around her body tighter after this, declaring that Loki is a robot and therefore is going to take over the world.

Loki finds himself perhaps a little... _at ease_ with Darcy right now. Sharing pointless information, joking, and teasing...it's everything he's never done with a friend. And while he doesn't want someone like Darcy Lewis to exactly be his friend, he has to admit that, for now, he enjoys her company a little bit, but only because he is that desperate for friendly affection.

Sif, Hogun, Volstagg, Fandral...they were all Thor's friends, though Sif often tried to insist she was Loki's friends just as much. She is rather odd in that way; lately, she has taken to seeking Loki out about his family, and the last thing Loki needs is _another_ annoying person in his life. Either way, she is not a real friend of his. Loki does not know if he has ever even _had_ a real friend.

"But if you ever do take over the world, you have to text me first," Darcy says, bringing Loki back into focus. "Friends would totally let friends rule the world with them." This she says while pushing her body against the side of his playfully.

Loki doesn't bump her back— he finds that childish— but he does smirk and say, "Now, if I really _were_ taking over the world, I would not see any use to tell _you_ about it. You would drive the world into ruin."

"Hurtful," Darcy gasps, faking hurt, but she's not a good actress and the way she breaks into a smile afterwards reveals her anyway. "I'm so not giving you my awesome nickname for you, then."

"And that would be-?"

"Brain."

Loki echoes this slowly. "Brain," he says.

"Like Pinky and the Brain," Darcy says. "One's a genius, the other's insane."

Loki stares at her, unsure as to what she is babbling about.

"...It's an old thing," says Darcy awkwardly as she attempts to fix the conversation. "Anyway, I think it's my turn for a question. No, wait, it's your turn. Wait— what time is it?"

Loki takes out his phone and checks the time. "It is ten," he informs her.

Darcy whistles lowly. "Shit, it's late," she says. "Jane's probably been calling me." She reaches into her pocket and takes out her phone, visibly wincing when she unlocks it. "Yikes, twenty missed calls. I really have to talk to her about this whole over-protectiveness of hers; she's going to drive me crazy."

"We should part ways here, then," Loki suggests.

"Yup, let's call it a night," agrees Darcy, and they walk to their cars together. They pass the Christmas tree as they exit, and Darcy takes a few seconds to sigh over it again (and also make Loki take a picture with her in front of it).

They stop at Darcy's car, where Loki makes sure to drop a kiss on her hand for good measure, and where she ends up taking another picture of him (though this one for her phone). She also takes his phone and takes a picture of herself, insisting that friends do that kind of stuff.

"Goodnight, Darcy," Loki says politely.

"Yeah, 'night," Darcy echoes, and she opens her car door, only to not enter her car. "Oh! I meant to ask you this, by the way. Next week is Christmas; what are you planning on doing?"

Loki honestly had not thought of that. Any other year he would have gone to be with his family, but with his current resentment towards Thor and Odin and even the slight hesitance he has brought to surface with his mother today, he does not know.

"I have not made plans yet," Loki says. "Have you?"

"Just spending it with Jane, and probably my friend Erik too," Darcy says. "Hey, if we don't talk until then, make sure to call me on Christmas Day, okay? We can meet up; I have the _perfect_ gift for you."

Loki frowns. Who is this _Erik_? He does not know why, but the idea of Darcy having a male friend does not sit well with him. But, that could very well be his fear as to what this woman thinks is the "perfect" gift for him.  
"Very well," Loki agrees, finding himself unable to refuse; he knows that he has to engage in _any_ sort of encounter with Darcy, because he has such little time to sway her to be, well, _his_.

"Cool. Text me whenever, okay, _friend_?" Darcy grins and finally enters her car, but before Loki has started to turn away, Darcy calls to him, "And don't forget to listen to the Beatles, too!"

Loki smiles softly to himself as he leaves to his car. Perhaps having a friend is not such a bad thing after all, knowing just how much...or little...of a good time he had today. It was certainly a strange experience, and oddly, for a second he finds himself looking forward to seeing Darcy again.

But only for a second.

.

.

.

Loki awakens the next morning and sets to work.

Not actual work at his job, of course. He takes the day off of work to go to Asgard Industries, to visit his brother and also gather information on the company for future reference. Building layouts, stock numbers, the profiles of each worker there...you name it, he wants it. Anything he can get can be crucial when he takes over the company as his own, after all. That part will be easy; going to see his brother will not be.

Loki made a mistake the last time he went to see his family in the sense that he foolishly let emotion get in the way of his plan. He tried to make Thor and Odin feel accountable— feel _betrayed_ — because he needed to see them suffer, but alas, it set him back; now Loki has clued them in on his bitterness. He must now undo this act as though he has forgiven his father (and Thor, who admittedly did not do much to Loki). Any emotion— any lingering hurt— must be banished if Loki desires to deceive his family.

So as he walks into the warm, welcoming atmosphere of Asgard Industries, he immediately makes his face a mask. Keeping himself calm and collected, he takes an elevator to the top floor and inquires on an audience with his brother, being sure to drop his name to stir fear into Thor's secretary.

Thor's secretary is not as much as an idiot as Loki's, so a few minutes later, Thor exits out of his office. Upon seeing Loki there, he breaks into a smile and immediately clamps a heavy hand on Loki's shoulder.

"Loki," he says warmly. "This is a pleasant surprise."

Loki nods curtly. "Yes, quite," he mutters. "May we speak, Thor?"

"Of course." If Thor has any feelings of resentment towards Loki and his words, he does not show it. Rather, he accepts Loki's request graciously (and, might Loki add, rather foolishly).

They enter Thor's office, where Loki takes a seat in one of the chairs situated before Thor's desk, leaning back comfortably. Thor doesn't sit; he leans against the side of the wall, looking to his brother with earnest blue eyes instead.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, brother?" Thor asks once they're situated.

Loki has to bite back the urge to yell _you are not my brother_ , having felt that was true for quite some time now, but what he opts for instead is, "I am here to seek your council, Thor."

"Oh?"

"Yes. I wish to fully make amends with you and father," Loki says, though of course, he is lying between his teeth. "I do hope that you will forgive me; I was merely bitter of my situation. If there is any way to make it up to you-"

He is cut off when Thor breaks into the widest smile Loki has ever seen. Loki would have ignored this and gone on speaking, but then Thor crosses the room and yanks Loki up out of his seat and into his meaty arms.

"Brother, you needn't apologize," Thor assures him, releasing Loki and placing his heavy hands on his shoulders, the large smile never relenting. "We are family; there are never any complications we cannot get past."

Loki, annoyed, brushes stray hairs that had became mussed when Thor forcefully squeezed life out of him. "Yes, I agree. Thank you," he mutters, and he is about to say the word _brother_ , but he doesn't and instead finishes, "Thor."

Thor keeps smiling. "This is grand! I shall inform mother and father-"

"What?"

"Because you wish to make amends, surely you wish to join us for Christmas, do you not?" Thor asks, not bothering to wait for a response. "Mother had not wanted to ask you for fear of how you would feel, but now you must come!"

Loki frowns without thinking. Why did his mother wish for him not to go? And here he'd thought the woman was the only family member he could love; the only one who cared for him like he was her own. If she truly loved him as she insisted she did, then why not invite _him_ for Christmas? The thought ought not to have hurt Loki as much as it did, but he found that, after all, it did. Even if she _did_ do it out out of respect for him, Loki finds himself hurt at the idea nonetheless.

"If father will have it, then I would not miss it for the world," answers Loki calmly.

"Good." Thor keeps smiling, and Loki vaguely wonders why. "It is good that we spend time together, is it not? We can talk, catch up, confide in each other..."

Well, Thor _has_ never been good with subtlety.

"Ask what you wish to, Thor," Loki interjects.

Thor is thrown off by the tinge of annoyance in Loki's tone, but is not alarmed by it. "Of course," he says hastily. "I merely wanted to ask about...the woman you had in your office the last time I stopped by."

"You mean, Darcy Lewis?" Loki clarifies.

Thor finally takes a seat, only to fidget in it. "Yes," he affirms.

Loki takes a seat as well, quirking an eyebrow at his brother. "What of her?"

"Who is she?"

"We've talked about this, Thor; your listening skills _have_ never been quite up to par. She is Darcy Lewis," Loki repeats, taking satisfaction in teasing Thor as he used to.

"No games, Loki," complains Thor. "Please tell me who she is to _you_."

Loki leans forward in his chair. "And what of Jane?"

"What?" _That_ alarms Thor. "Jane Foster? She is...an acquaintance."

"Ah, yes, of course," Loki notes. "Enough to exchange phone numbers?"

"She is a nice woman," Thor says defensively.

"I did not suggest otherwise; do calm down, Thor," Loki says mischievously. "However, when Darcy and I had a nice talk, she informed me that the woman is actually quite smitten with you, and yet, you do not contact her."

"I...have been busy," Thor lies miserably.

"Yes, I know how much work it takes to not run a company," mocks Loki, drawling on the words and watching as Thor becomes a shade red in embarrassment, for because Thor actually has not begun running the company yet; while the last bits of paperwork are being processed, Odin still runs Asgard Industries, making Thor have no work to do yet.

In truth, Loki has come to understand that Thor is infatuated with this _Jane_ woman. Loki also has come to understand that Thor, even as dumb as he is, recognizes that someone of his class ought not to mix with someone of her class and is avoiding her even when he wishes not to.

"Now, do not turn this on _me_ , brother," Thor warns. "What of Darcy?"

"What of her?" Loki asks, shrugging conspicuously.

Thor clears his throat. "Well," he starts uncomfortably, "is she...nice?"

"I would guess so. She's not mean, if that is what you are implying."

Thor nods, looking far too serious. "I see. And do you spend much time... _talking_ to her?" he asks. "You did mention the two of you were speaking..."

Loki smirks. Ah, so the dimwit thinks he is using her. It might be one of the only time in his life that Thor is right about something, and even then, his judgement is a little off.

"She is adequate company, I suppose," Loki muses, trying not to let too much slip, for Thor must believe Loki as lovesick fool until later, so Loki must not act as though entranced by the woman too much yet. "She talks an awful lot," he adds, "though perhaps not as much as Sif speaks to me lately. Tell me, how _is_ Sif?"

Thor suddenly looks uncomfortable once more. "She is well," he manages out.

"That is wonderful to know," Loki says calmly. "Now tell me one last thing: just what did you promise her to make her come and seek out what my intentions were with our family?"

Thor fidgets again. "I...apologize," he says quietly. "That was unwise of me to do. Sif advised me to look into it, fearing you would do something drastic, so I asked her to seek you out."

"But what did you promise her?" Loki asks once more.

Thor ponders the question in confusion. "Nothing," he answers slowly, as if barely realizing it himself. "I offered money, but she turned it away. She did not want payment."

Loki smirks even more. So the thick-headed idiot _still_ hasn't noticed Sif's affections.

"But that does not matter. What matters is _you_ , Loki," Thor says, changing the subject. "I am sorry for trying to get information out of you, but once Sif admitted you had no selfish ambitions involving our family, I insisted she not bother you again. I wish not to make you feel betrayed again, brother."

Loki decides to let Thor believe that all is well, to make this as quick as possible.

"It is fine, Thor," he says in a clipped tone. "We shall set aside any complications in our past and work together towards the future, for that is the only thing that matters."

"Of course," Thor says gratefully, and then, "It is great to have you back, brother."

Loki smiles maliciously. "The feeling is mutual... _brother_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **These amazing people...  
>  Miranda  
> Shadows_of_Shemai  
> Loral  
> ...all left comments last chapter. Thank you so, so much; you don't know how much that means to me!**


	6. Drop a Heart, Break a Name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I apologize for this chapter in advance; it's a filler chapter with slight development. After this, things are going to speed up and the plot is going to become heavier, so just bear with me with this. Also, SORRY FOR NOT POSTING THIS even though it's been done for months. Hehe. *sheepishly looks away***
> 
>  
> 
> "Am I more than you bargained for yet? I've been dying to tell you anything you want to hear, 'cause that's just who I am this week..." _Sugar, We're Going Down_ , Fall Out Boy.
> 
> **Disclaimer: No, I don't own Thor; if I did, there'd be a Tasertricks movie.**

It's snowing.

Loki looks out the window of his apartment, watching as the delicate flakes consume the tops of cars, buildings, and sidewalks, dotting the hair of hurried people in the street. They must be rushing to get to their families; that is what most do on Christmas, after all. Loki places a hand against the cold glass and imagines, just briefly, that he is among them, rushing to get to his loved ones.

The chill of the glass, after quite a while, doesn't sting his palm as it ought to; he is, after all, partial to the cold. That is why he is not brought back to Earth—back to the real world—when he becomes lost in thought, watching as the snowflakes dance and twist in the cold winter air and reminding him too much of the notion of a "white" Christmas and henceforth reminding him of just that: Christmas.

He used to love Christmas, both as a child and in previous years. He used to love the warm feeling he would get to sit beside his mother, to laugh and talk to Thor, to exchange kind words with his father. Loki never _loved_ the holiday; he tolerated it at most (the day was bad for business), but the memories he has of the day never cease to remind him of what it felt like to be loved. To be wanted. To be part of a _family_.

He blinks himself back to reality at this, feeling as though his chest has become to feel much too tight and his throat too raw. He leaves the window and heads into his kitchen, where he sets to making himself a cup of coffee; perhaps that will help clear his mind, for there is no part of his being that wishes to be part of _their_ family anymore.

There is no part of him that should.

The coffee, as it goes down his raw throat, is scalding; it burns his tongue and the inside of his mouth, and welcomingly so, for the pain reminds Loki that he cannot be weak, that he cannot be like _them_. Like the other fools who go around praising family as if family doesn't stab each other in the back when push comes to shove. Like _his_ so-called family.

Leaning against the kitchen counter and reducing to sipping from his cup slowly, he stares at his phone on the kitchen table and wonders if he ought to call Thor. Loki _is_ supposed to meet the oaf and their... _parents_ for Christmas, after all. Perhaps he should just wait for their call; if they really want him to be there, they will call. Then again, Loki cannot consider what _they_ want if he is to get what _he_ wants; it is not in his nature.

Emotion will be his downfall.

He tells himself this, repeating it in his mind and scarring his mouth again with the hot liquid of his coffee, as though the action will burn the words into memory. These words are what he must live by, for emotions equal pain, and hurt, and maybe even attachment; Loki cannot have any of that. He only needs one thing: Asgard Industries. It is that simple, isn't it? What _more_ could he want? What more could satisfy him? What more is rightfully _his_?

He sighs to himself and sets aside his cup, going over to the kitchen table and picking up his phone. He checks the time—9:27 A.M.—and begins to scroll through his contacts. Because so few have his phone number, the first name Loki gets happens to be "Badass Lewis," accompanied by a silly picture. Upon seeing this, Loki remembers that he _still_ has not changed his ringtone since _she_ changed it, and had forgotten to mention it. He would make sure to do that, but for now, he scrolls down and finds Thor's name.

The call goes straight to voicemail. That is strange.

Loki frowns at the screen and sets the phone aside. Perhaps Thor forgot to turn on his phone, or forgot to pay the bill; that _would_ seem like something the thick-headed oaf would do. Either way, Loki knows that he won't be able to call just yet.

So instead, he does something he has not in a while: sketch.

Loki always had loved art, as a child. While Thor had the loud, physical traits to him that compelled him to sports and being as dumb as he is, Loki had the quiet, artistic ones that drew him to sketching, writing, and reading. He does not write as often anymore, but he still enjoys reading and occasionally drawing, such as today.

Sketching softly and lazily, Loki finds himself making the soft curves of a woman. This isn't uncommon; Loki enjoys sketching human anatomy and finds the practice actually quite soothing, though time-consuming. Just drawing out the body takes a while; at least a good hour or so, if he's kept a subconscious count.

The actions mesmerize him. He's never been this inspired to sketch before; he finds that each pencil stroke comes easily and eagerly, as if the pencil is drawing the picture itself. Moving on to the face of the woman, he is unsure how to proceed. Human features are something he has not grasped the concept of yet; most often he models his drawings after someone else. Before, his mother's face was the one he would model each woman's face after.

Gripping his pencil lightly, Loki sets to work, but finds that he does not sketch his mother's high cheekbones; instead, the cheeks are softer, though still a little high. Working on the nose, the feature is once again not as sharp as his mother's; it is softer around the edges and not as defined. The lips come next, and they're softer and thicker than Loki remembers his mother's to be. Loki gazes at the picture in confusion now; this looks _very_ unlike his mother.

Loki, even knowing this, confusedly begins to sketch the eyes of the woman. As each definite stroke becomes clearer, Loki finds himself confronted with the mental image of blue eyes. The eyes are not light, clear blue eyes like Frigga's; the blue is slightly more vivid.

Almost...endearingly more vivid.

That is when Loki's sense snap to attention. _Darcy Lewis._. He is literally sketching _Darcy Lewis_. He throws his pencil aside in alarm, eyes widening at the prospect. Blasted woman; she has bewitched him to think of her, even right now. Loki sighs to himself and studies the picture carefully anyway; he just blames this happening because he has had to spend so much time with the woman.

Carefully, he places a hand on the paper. The sketch is, admittedly, some of his best work. Perhaps he ought to keep it, he muses as he admires his handiwork. Yes, as a possible reference for later work...

A second later, everything dissolves into chaos.

Loki's door bangs open, which makes Loki twist his head sharply in the direction of the doorway. Before he is even on his feet, Thor enters Loki's apartment with a huge grin on his face. "Merry Christmas, brother!" he exclaims, crossing Loki's carpeted floor eagerly to get to Loki.

Loki, in a panic, crams the drawing into his suit jacket pocket as Thor pulls Loki into the bone-crushing hug. As Loki is being smushed to nothing, he sees his parents entering the room as well over Thor's bulky shoulder.

"You found my spare key, I see," notes Loki dryly, trying to move out of Thor's grip while also trying to express his disdain for his family breaking into his house.

Thor finally releases him, but unfortunately keeps grinning. "Yes," he answers.

Loki would've made a quip of how Thor couldn't have possibly found such a well-hidden object, but a look to his mother reminds him that _she_ was probably the one to find it; she was the one who taught Loki many tricks, after all.

"I was expecting a call, not a visit," Loki then tells his family pointedly.

"We figured we ought to surprise you," Frigga says, and she smiles fondly at Loki, crossing the room to touch her son's face. "How are you, my dear?"

"I am well, mother," Loki says curtly. "And you?"

"Better, now that my son is back," she says, and when she envelops Loki into a hug, Loki gingerly hugs back; everything he had thought of last week involving her and her deceit comes rushing back at the sight of her, and he is unsure as to what he ought to feel.

Odin steps forward when Frigga releases Loki. "Son," he says curtly.

Loki looks to Odin and, after a pregnant pause, utters, "Father."

Frigga beams at the two of them; Thor even manages to smile wider. Odin doesn't smile or look relieved in any sense; Loki can see the distrust lingering in his eyes. Odin will be the hardest to persuade, it seems. Well, no matter, for that will all be solved soon.

For the next few hours, the family sets to trying to make this Christmas feel normal again. They begin with trying to make Loki's apartment festive ("A tree, Loki, that is all you needed to have gotten," complains Frigga before she sets to digging through Loki's scarce decarations), making hot chocolate ("I will make it," Loki interjects before Thor can, knowing Thor will somehow mess it up), and starting a fire in the fireplace ("A task," Thor notes, "for a man—" This he says before he almost sets Loki's carpet on fire).

Around midday, the four of them are still seated around the fire, exchanging information of what is going on in their lives. This is normal for the Odison family, for they celebrate early in the morning and possibly through lunchtime every Christmas because of Odin's constant responsibilities with Asgard Industries; it's been that way since Loki and Thor were kids in that sense.

Thor and Odin now discuss Asgard Industries. Odin is explaining something and Thor listens intently, so Loki is left to speak to his mother (not that Frigga appears to mind).

"How are you, Loki?" she asks him softly.

"I can ask you the same thing, mother," replies Loki charmingly. "Please don't tell me you've been at peace, handling all the business transactions that come with giving away the rights to Asgard Industries."

Frigga laughs. "You know me so well, Loki," she agrees. "I do wish your father would be a bigger man sometimes and do most of his work himself; he doesn't trust me with big things, and yet, I'm stuck doing them every time."

"A true gentleman," Loki notes dryly.

Frigga smiles. "You'd be surprised," she says fondly, glancing towards her husband. "I know he's not a perfect man; he's always so cold and stiff, for heaven's sake, but...love surpasses that. Love surpasses everything."

She looks at Loki with unwavering blue eyes and takes his hand when she says this. Loki curls his fingers around her hand and matches her gaze quietly.

"I am glad you are happy, mother, even when stuck with work," he relays gently.

Frigga laughs again. "Now don't be talking to _me_ about work," she says amusedly. "How often are you taking a break from working? Don't lie to me, either."

Truth be told, Loki has spent far too _much_ time taking a break from working. Whenever he is not going over work or working, he spends his time with Darcy Lewis; that alone is not work, but it is just as grueling. This requires too much of his time now, for Loki has to immerse himself in this task too much. Before, he would immerse himself in his work only.

"I am working in moderation, I assure you," says Loki.

Frigga doesn't seem to believe him. "Of course you are, Loki," she says good-naturedly before she leans closer and adds, "Now I know this is out of the blue, but, I wanted to ask if you remembered the Christmas tree lighting they do every year?"

Loki nods. "I remember," he assents.

"Would you like to go?" she asks him quietly. "We...haven't gone in quite a while."

Since he was a child, actually, but Loki does not dwell on that.

"No, thank you, mother," he replies politely. "I am too old for such an event." And, might he add, so is Darcy Lewis; yet, somehow she managed to be the one to drag him to such an event. In a way, that almost makes Loki feel wrong, to be denying his mother something he allowed Darcy to take him to.

The look Frigga dons then is one that gives Loki almost pleasing satisfaction, for she looks disappointed and perhaps a little hurt that he has refused. Frigga, Loki reasons, needs to be hurt as much as he was these past weeks.

"I see," says Frigga quietly. "Well, of course you've outgrown it; _you_ are so grown, my son. Twenty-seven years old already. Where have the years gone?"

 _To lies_. That is where the years have gone. But Loki does not say this.

"Years are fleeting," Loki says in agreement.

Frigga nods and is about to say something else, but suddenly a phone goes off.

Loki's phone, to be precise.

" _I'm a Barbie girl, in a Barbie world_..."

Every eye in the room immediately begins to look around, trying to find the source of the annoying pop song that fills the room. Loki sighs upon hearing the song; he forgot to change his ringtone in his haste to entertain his family.

"Excuse me, mother," Loki says as he rises to get his phone.

Frigga stares after her son blankly. "Is that...your _phone_?"

"Unfortunately," Loki breathes to himself as he seizes the device, sliding the lock screen at the name "Badass Lewis," paired with the picture the foolish woman took of herself on his phone. "Hello?" he says into the receiver.

"Hey, Loki! This is you, right?"

Loki rolls his eyes. "Yes, it is I. Hold on for just a moment." He pulls his phone away and tells his mother apologetically, "I must take this. Please excuse me." He then steps outside onto a balcony that sides his apartment, shutting the door behind him before he says, "What is your reason of calling?"

"Merry Christmas," is Darcy's flat reply. "No, but, seriously—it's Christmas."

"I hate to disappoint you, but I am afraid I already knew that."

"Ass," huffs Darcy, and even when she's not there, Loki can imagine the fake way she must be acting hurt. "So are you with your family right now, or—?"

"I am, yes," Loki affirms. "They will be leaving soon, though."

"Really? Why?"

"We celebrate Christmas early," Loki answers curtly.

"That's cool." A beat. "Okay, thing is, do you feel like meeting me somewhere?"

He doesn't, actually. "Of course," he lies. "Where?"

"Wait, you actually _do_?"

Loki hears the disbelief and maybe even panic in her voice. "Yes," he repeats slowly. "Is there something going on? Do you not want me to meet you?"

"Er, well...there's, uh, something going on over here. A party of sorts."

"And—?"

"Aaaand my cousin dared me to call you to do this for a drinking game, because he thinks we're dating and whatever and tried to embarrass me by pretending he wanted to meet you. Sorry about all of this, but you can just hang up if you want to—"

"Darcy," Loki cuts her off.

"—What?"

"I'll come," he says, annoyed. "Where shall I meet you?"

A beat. "But...why?"

"Well, for one, we _are_ dating," Loki tells her matter-of-factly. "If you wish for me to meet your cousin, then I would be delighted to." His lies come out smoothly; he truly _has_ gotten good.

Laughter comes from the other line. "Oh, you're hilarious."

Loki frowns seriously. "In what aspect?" he asks.

"Wait- what? Are you... _serious_?" comes the disbelieving question.

Loki continues to frown. "Yes, of course," he says. "I do not partake in joke telling, sarcasm, or any other form of not being serious; I'm not very good at either."

"Don't be an asshole. I'm confused, okay? Where did you even _get_ the idea that we were dating? I mean, okay, we've been on a few dates, but isn't it a little early to label whatever it is we have?"

Loki sighs, leaning against the sliding door of the balcony. "You said that our relationship should progress so long as we became friends first," he reminds her, recalling their second date. "And we became friends, did we not? Therefore, we are dating."

"So you just... _decided_ this because of that? Who does that?!"

"Me, aparently," Loki huffs in annoyance. "Is there a reason you are so put off by this idea and find it so unbelievable? Do you not wish to pursue a romantic relationship with me?"

"To be honest, dude, I really don't know _what_ to think about any relationship with you," comes the woman's unapologetic reply. "I'm not trying to say we should do some weird-ass friends with benefits thing, but maybe we shouldn't...I dunno, be more than friends right now."

Loki sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose. "I am attempting to pursue a relationship with you, Darcy—I do not wish to be just friends," he says pointedly. "Have I not been clear of my affections?"

"Your...affections? Look, I—" Darcy's voice becomes lower as she speaks away from the phone. "Jane? Jane, no, I'm not upset, I'm just talking to Loki. Yeah, he's—no, he's not coming, Tony, so get your face out of your ass and—! Keep talking and I swear to God I'll—wait, Loki. Loki, are you still there?"

"Yes," says Loki, exasperated.

"Oh. Sorry about that. Um...maybe we should not talk about this right now," Darcy says, and her voice is oddly soft. "Maybe we can, er, talk about this later when we meet up? I do still owe you that present."

"I can meet you now," Loki reminds her, his patience running thin.

Darcy sighs; Loki can hear the motion from his line. "I don't know about that. Jane and Erik are with me right now, remember? And my annoying cousin decided to show his ugly face—yes, Tony, I am well aware that you can hear me—"

Loki remembers the name _Erik_. That must be her male friend. Well, that makes him frown at the idea; if he is to use Darcy Lewis, then she should not be having this _Erik_ over when she will not even let _Loki_ come by.

"I would like to meet your friends, Darcy," Loki says, trying to sound as sincere as possible (and, might he add, doing so very well at the task). "I truly mean that I would like to become involved with you. Please, spare me the agony and say you will accept me as well."

Darcy does not respond, because a second later, the phone is snatched from her hands; Loki can hear the sound of protest she makes and the rushing air that comes from the other line.

"Hello?"

Loki sighs; he does not even know why he is still doing this. "Yes?"

"So _you're_ 'Tall, Pale, and Brooding'," notes the voice on the other end.

Loki raises his eyebrows at this, because he recognizes the voice.

It belongs to none other than Tony Stark, genius billionaire playboy philanthropist—or so the magazines call him; Loki has not known the man to be very smart or, for that matter, a philanthropist.

"Stark," says Loki coldly. "It's been a while."

For a minute, the line was silent. Then, "Loki. You're _that_ Loki? Huh, I should've guessed that sooner; what would be the odds of some other parent hating their kid so much that they'd name 'em _Loki_?"

Loki frowns. "What are you playing at, Stark?"

"Hey, I'm just enjoying this," Stark informs him, and Loki can picture the gleeful smile his face must have at the moment. "You and Darcy, _together_? This is the best Christmas present I could've ever gotten!"

"And why is that?" questions Loki, confused.

"Because it's fucking hilarious! You and Darcy. God, this is—this is _funny_ , and totally blackmail-worthy. I've gotta tell Pepper. Hey Jane, be a sweetheart and dial Pepper on my phone, would you? Thanks, gorgeous—ow! I was complimenting her, Darcy; I didn't even mention her nice rack—OW! I'm pretty sure that was illegal!"

The phone seemingly is taken away from Tony.

"You know Tony?" is the first thing Darcy asks.

"Yes," Loki answers. The "unfortunately" at the end is unsaid, but is clear as day.

"Great, now he's going to ruin my life about this," grumbles Darcy before her voice goes low once more. "Tony, I swear to God, if you even _think_ about telling my parents, then I am going to murder you and cut off your—what, Jane? He's being difficult!"

Loki grips his phone tighter. "Darcy," he says calmly, to call her attention.

"Huh?"

"Do you truly feel so ashamed to be with me?" Loki asks, feeling confused as to why Darcy finds the notion one not to be told to her parents, and a laughable one as well.

"Um...no," she says, quietly. "It's just—weird. This is really weird, okay? One minute I'm perpetually single and now it's like...I have a boyfriend? It's just too fast, don't you think?"

"I disagree; time has no effect on a relationship."

"I dunno, dude—this is freaky. Seriously, can we just talk later? In person? I love technology and all, but this doesn't seem, well, _right_ to discuss this over the phone."

"Then let me meet you now," Loki says.

"...but you're, like, with your family. And _Tony's_ over here."

"I don't care," Loki says, successfully able to keep any annoyance out of his tone. "I wish to see you, Darcy; just because that idiot is there does not make that any less true."

"You really want to see me?" Darcy's tone is doubtful—and rightfully so.

"Of course," lies Loki smoothly.

"... _Fine_. You know what, just come over; this day is weird enough as it is. Erik's been wanting to meet you anyway, and so has Jane...even if she knows you...and Tony, but I guess you know him..."

"You're stalling," Loki notes, smirking.

"...I know."

A minute later, a single text message is sent to his phone, containing an address: namely, Darcy's address. Loki reenters his apartment, smirking at the screen; he always _has_ been able to get his way—

The clearing of a throat sounds. "Loki, is everything alright?" Frigga asks.

Loki turns his head in her direction. His mother stands in the kitchen, looking at him carefully. Odin and Thor are standing in the living room, Thor looking curious and Odin indifferent.

"Oh, of course," Loki says smoothly. "Something just came up at work. Mother, Father, Thor—I hate to inconvenience you all, but I'm afraid this can't wait. I must attend to this... _business_ immediately."  
.

.

.

The apartment Loki finds himself at an hour (and several prolonged goodbyes) later is a small, remarkably ordinary one. The location is one Loki finds displeasing; the place and people give him bad vibes the second he steps out of his nice car, dressed in a formal, expensive suit. _Lower class scum_ , he thinks to himself, arranging his tie and stiffly walking to Darcy's apartment.

_The things he does..._

The door is flung open when Loki knocks, and there stands Tony Stark in all his (not) glory, leaning against the doorframe, lips tugged in a smirk and arms crosses over his chest tantalizingly.

"Odison," he says in greeting, smirking.

Loki eyes him apprehensively. "Stark," he says flatly.

"Darcy," Darcy announces cheerfully as she nudges Stark aside with her hip, joining him at the door. "Hey, Loki, come in—but you're in a suit again! Geez, do you _ever_ take your suits off?"

"Whoa, undress each other when I'm not here, lovebirds," Stark says, pretending to be disgusted (but smirking at the exchange playfully, and even raising his eyebrows subtly at Darcy).

"Shut up, Tony," Darcy says rudely as she walks away from the door, prompting Loki to follow behind, eyeing the living room he steps in. It's small and ordinary; the place is like a box in size, cluttered with bright-colored furniture and abstract art littering the walls.

"What, upset we're all here because you can't get any?" Stark asks, clicking his tongue disapprovingly. "I'm ashamed of you, Darce—I thought you were supposed to be a good girl."

"And I thought you were supposed to be out of the state with Pepper's parents, and instead you're _here_ ," Darcy counters in annoyance, but Loki can hear the playful tinge her voice holds and knows the exchange is normal.

Stark shrugs. "Technicalities."

Darcy rolls her eyes before looking back to Loki. "Oh, Loki, forgot about you for a second," she says sheepishly. "Okay, you know Tony, so let's find the others...Jane! Jane, Loki's here!"

From the kitchen, which ajoins with the living room, comes the thin brunette. She looks at Loki, smiling kindly and offering a hand (which Loki has half a mind to refuse, but doesn't).

"Hi. It's nice to see you...again," says this _Jane_.

Loki nods her way. "And you as well."

"Now there's just Erik—Erik! You still in the shower?" Darcy yells.

No reply comes, but footfalls sound, and a second later, a man appears in the doorway of the room, hands on his ears. Loki finds himself relaxing—he had gotten tense for just a second—when he realizes that this _Erik_ is not but an old, graying man.

"Eardrums, Darcy," Erik reminds the girl, chuckingly good-naturedly before his eyes flit to Loki and his eyes, once smiling, become guarded and unsure. "Oh. Hello. You must be the boyfriend."

"The _friend_ ," Darcy hastily corrects.

Tony snorts. "And that's why you were trying to get him out of his suit."

"I _wasn't_ , you asshole," Darcy snaps, smacking Tony's arm.

Loki takes the incentive—ignoring Darcy and Stark's exchange—to offer a hand to Erik. "Yes, that's me," he says pointedly, making Darcy sigh in exasperation as Stark smirks in her direction. "Loki Odison, and you must be Erik."

"Erik Selving," Erik affirms, looking over at Darcy carefully before taking Loki's hand and shaking it firmly. "It's, uh, nice to meet you. Now I suppose I ought to give you some sort of speech of being good to Darcy or something of the sort..." He trails off uncertainly.

"I'll take the job, Selving, so don't worry," Tony says, throwing an arm over Erik's shoulders (which Erik removes pointedly). "So Lokes—I can call you Lokes, right, thanks—what are you up to? Not off with the golden Odison family this time of year?"

"I already met with my family today," Loki says stiffly.

"Ah," Stark says, not looking interested in the slightest. "Okay, time for male threats! Lokes, if you'll be so kind—" Stark gestures to the bright orange couch and moves to sit on it.

Loki exchanges a glance with Darcy—it's clear she despises this—before he sits down on the tacky piece of furniture gingerly, very unsure as to what could've been on the couch before.

"Okay, you wanna know what I have?" Stark asks right off. "Guns. And the ability to mass-scale produce guns. You know, since my business used to specialize in that, no big deal. But I have guns. _Lots_ of guns. I could kick your ass without guns, of course, but I have 'em. So that's how it's gonna go—you hurt Darcy, I hurt you."

" _Tony_ ," Darcy says in frustration. "Can you not?"

"What? I'm being civil. I haven't even thrown him out a window or anything."

"I meant can you not _threaten_ him. It's stupid," huffs Darcy. "C'mon, Tony, _seriously_? If he hurts me, there's no way _you_ would get to kick his ass. _I'd_ be the one doing all the ass-kicking."

"But... _guns_ ," Stark says dejectedly.

"Nope, no guns. If there's anything being used, it's gonna be my taser."

Loki raises his eyebrows at this; she has a taser?

"Would I be able to watch you kick his ass?" Stark asks, lighting up.

"No."

"Eh, worth a shot." Stark stands up from the couch. "Glad we've got that out of the way. Now let's get to what Christmas is really about: booze. Darce, dish us out some new drinks!"

"Dish them out yourself," Darcy grumbles as she sits down next to Loki in the couch, keeping herself a sizable distance away, but still close enough to make Stark grin their way knowingly.

"Fine, make the nice guy get the drinks," complains Tony as he heads into the small kitchen, expertly opening the pantry and taking out a bottle of vodka. "Whatever—there's alcohol. Lokes, what's your poison?"

Loki eyes Stark in the kitchen, and then Darcy seated beside him, and he smoothly says, "Whatever drink Darcy wishes to have will be adequate."

"Don't be that guy, kiss-up," Tony complains as he yanks open the refrigerator, taking out a bottle of cranberry juice. "Though, I have to say, Darce, he's definitely your type."

Darcy raises her eyebrows. "I have a _type_?"

"Yeah—whipped," is Tony's effortless answer as he begins to pour the drinks.

Loki resists the urge to sigh. He knows this is going to be a long day, and if Loki is anything, he is always right, for a few hours later, everyone around him has had a bit too much of alcohol.

And by that, he means a lot.

"Staaaaaayin' aliveeeeee!" Stark shrieks into the couch, his face pressed against the cushions. Jane, his karaoke partner, is still thankfully upright, but her words keep getting lost in giggles and she can't get out the next line of lyrics.

"That's the wrong tune!" Darcy hollers from her side of the couch.

"Fuck you!" Stark starts to laugh as he rolls of the couch, falling on the floor. "I—AM—STAYING—ALIVE!" he yells, completely out of tune again (and not to mention those are not even lyrics of the song).

Darcy starts to laugh harder; Loki, from his spot beside her, eyes her reproachfully. She's not drunk, per se, but tipsy; if she keeps drinking, soon she will be the messes that Stark and Jane are. Erik, who leans against the wall, is slightly sober but not bothering to intervene.

"Jane, Jane, Jane!" Darcy calls. "Keep going!" It's clear by the way she's grinning that Jane does not usually get this drunk, and she seems to be eager to exploit the opportunity. For a second, the notion almost makes Loki smile; it is so _mischievous_ of her.

Jane continues to giggle. "Okay. Okay. Okay! _I'm so fancy_ —"

"Wrong song!" Stark calls.

" _You already knooooow_ —"

"Foster, _wrong song_ ," repeats Stark loudly. "Darcy, tell her!"

"Whaa? But—but—I'm so _fancy_ ," Jane whines.

Darcy continues to laugh, her shoulders shaking, and she falls back on the couch so she is leaning against Loki's shoulder. Loki stiffens at the contact, but Darcy doesn't notice; she's too busy laughing. Loki brushes it off that it is because Darcy is tipsy for this contact; unless, perhaps, she is warming up to him—?

"If anyone's fancy, it's _me_ ," Stark counters drunkenly.

Erik goes into the kitchen to get another drink, muttering something about how he'd like one Christmas where everyone wasn't either wasted or singing, making Loki slightly appreciate the man's endurance to stick with these people.

"You're not fancy! If anyone is, it's Loki—I mean, just look at his suit," babbles Darcy, leaning her head back on the couch. "That reminds me—Loki! Hey, Loki!"

"Yes?" answers Loki curtly.

Darcy leans closer to him, her voice now low. "How do you know Tony?" she asks curiously, changing the subject so Stark won't hear (not that it matters; he is so inebriated, he would not have thought much of it).

"I had the _fortune_ of meeting him thanks to Thor," Loki replies evenly, and describes the event of where this took place; Thor had taken Loki—against his will—to a meeting with a Director Fury, who had discussed business revenues and suggested a future project where their different companies could join for a good cause. Thor had been eager for the opportunity, but Loki had not; he had been very bored. Tony Stark, being there, had been bored as well and had attempted to strike up a conversation.

The attempt had failed, for Loki had not wanted to talk to the foolish man; he had left the meeting with the presumption of never speaking to the man he (admittedly) icily brushed off...and perhaps even insulted...

"Hmm." Darcy turns her head so she is staring right at Loki, her bright blue eyes wide and innocent. Loki feels his breath hitch at the unadulterated wonder she conveys through this act. "You're really weird. You know that, right?"

"If that will appease you, then yes," Loki says, arching a brow questioningly.

Darcy smiles. "Good," she says amusedly, standing up off of the couch and offering a small hand in his direction. "Now come on, there's something I have to give you, don't I?"

Against his better judgement, Loki takes her hand.

Like everything that happens when he is with Darcy, Loki comes to regret this decision when Darcy gives him the dubbed "perfect" gift for him: a mug. A _green_ mug, might he add, with the words "this coffee has given me unrealistic expectations of productivity."

As Darcy explains how, since Loki is influential in his business, he has to have such a mug with such words on it to be comical relief in the workplace (this is paraphrased from her speech, obviously). That, and also because Darcy insists that he needs something other than the generic white mugs he keeps in his office.

"Well...thank you," says Loki, his voice low and unnaturally gentle.

"No sarcasm?" Darcy questions, eyeing the distasteful mug in Loki's hands. "Wow, and here I was, getting this only to get a rise out of ya; you're getting soft on me, here."

"If you wish me to, then I will gladly be sarcastic," offers Loki.

"Ugh, quit that," complains Darcy once the words are out of his mouth. "All of that if-you-wish stuff, I mean; you're one word away from making this _The Princess Bride_. I don't want you to be some kiss-ass boyfriend who's always trying to do whatever I want."

Loki smirks, feeling an odd stab of pride in his heart. "Then you will accept me?"

"Yes, you asshole, I'll _accept_ you as my boyfriend or whatever," Darcy says, and there's the hint of a faint blush on her cheeks that fades as quickly as it comes. "But don't think I've forgiven you. _Or_ that I'm having sex with you."

"Again with that, are you?"

"Hey, guys are always after it; I'm just making sure." Darcy pulls her legs up so she is sitting cross-legged on her bed; she and Loki are currently in her bedroom, Darcy on her bed and Loki standing beside it.

"I am not like the others," Loki says pointedly.

"Yeah, I know, you're just a moderate asshole, not a total one." Darcy squints past Loki as if trying to see past him. "Ugh, I'm freaking blind—this is why I need to remember to put on my contacts in the morning."

"You wear contacts?"

"Yeah, forgot to mention that," Darcy says, shrugging. "Oh well. Can you pass me my glasses? They're on the nighstand, in that little box-thingy."

Loki does so, albeit questioningly.

Darcy then pulls herself off the bed, perching the glasses on her nose, before reaching into the pocket of her jeans and uncrumpling a piece of paper. Loki curiously looks on, and when he sees what it is, his heart plummets to the bottom of his stomach.

 _His_ picture. The one he drew of Darcy.

"How did you get that?" he demands, mouth gone dry.

Darcy's mouth just falls open. "Dude!" she exclaims.

Loki blanches, expecting some harsh words, but then Darcy breaks into a smile.

"You're fucking amazing! How can you draw like this?" Darcy studies the drawing more carefully. "Sorry for taking this, by the way, but it fell out of your pocket and the blurry version of it looked cool, so...I wanted to see it in a _not_ blurry way."

Loki resists the urge to groan; this woman truly has no personal boundaries. "That is alright. I...actually meant to gift it to you," he lies, knowing there is no other way to play this and explain how she has somehow _entranced_ his mind.

"Really? That's actually pretty cool." Darcy eyes it, nodding to herself. "Like a selfie, only classier. Thanks... _Lokes_." Her tone is mischevious, and Loki finds himself frowning.

"Your cousin is a piece of work," he tells her flatly.

"Yeah, tell me about it," Darcy says. "He's supposed to be out with his fiancé's parents for Christmas, but he chickened out and came here. He probably just got drunk to forget all that, the son of a bitch." A few seconds pass and then she adds, "I'm sorry about him, by the way. And for this whole...thing. I didn't want you to be dragged into this...whatever it is."

"I believe," Loki answers mischievously, "that you refer to Christmas."

"C'mon, dude, don't be nice about it. Hate it," Darcy prompts. "All they've been doing is drinking and singing...and that's all they do on celebrations like this. Though not Jane; she's probably just drunk to forget that _you're_ the brother here, and Thor doesn't text or call or whatever..."

"Does she wish to see him again that much?"

"Yeah, she's a hopeless romantic. Like, a _really_ hopeless romantic."

"And let me guess—you're not," says Loki, lips turning upwards in a smile.

"Duh—remember who's doing the dragon-slaying around here?" Darcy says teasingly. "But yeah, I've never liked the whole Prince-Charming thing. I kinda always had a thing for the villains."

Loki smirks. "Oh?"

"That came out _so_ much dirtier than intended. Oh, wow. Hey, get the smile off your face!" Darcy laughs, and she throws one of her bed pillows half-heartedly at Loki's shoulder.

"I would, but I do not wish to be the type of boyfriend to do whatever you want."

"...Asshole," grumbles Darcy decidedly after a few seconds of silence.

Loki continues to smirk at her, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction wash over him. Darcy has now agreed to be involved with him; though it took longer than anticipated, all is now well. His plan can be much more easily set, and also, he will have less to think about and do when it comes to Darcy Lewis.

Yet, gazing at her with the glasses on her nose and her silly smile curling on her lips, he feels strangely compelled to keep spending time with her. He is about to say something—anything—when the moment is shattered by Tony Stark, the imbecile.

" _I already told you, Foster_ —I'm _fancy_!"

Jane's voice follows. " _You already knooooow_ —!"

And Loki decides then and there that, even while strangely entranced by Darcy Lewis, he is utterly unprepared for spending time with her associates, drunk or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A hugh thanks to both Shadows_of_Shemai and pipa for commenting last chapter! You don't know how much that made me smile. :)**


End file.
